Come Back to Kukuru Mountain
by Federname
Summary: The massive gates and walls of Kukuru Mountain are not bulwark against all that exists in the outside world. The worlds of Padokian politics and its most famous assassins meet, as romance unexpectedly breaches that seemingly impregnable barrier. ch.33 up
1. Her Situation

**Disclaimer:** The setting, and several characters in this story are taken from HUNTERxHUNTER © POT (Yoshihiro Togashi) 1998 All Rights Reserved, and are being used here, solely for purposes of parody/entertainment. The plot, and all other characters are the creation of the author, and any resemblance to actual events or persons alive or deceased is purely accidental, and unintentional.

This story features one of Mr. Togashi's male characters in a light romantic pairing with an original female character. If such a pairing might interest you, please continue with this story, and thank you for your time.

**Summary**: The massive gates and walls of Kukuru Mountain are not bulwark against all that exists in the very different world, outside. The worlds of Padokian politics and its most famous professional assassins meet, as romance unexpectedly manages to breach that seemingly impregnable barrier.

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**Come Back to Kukuru Mountain**

by _Federname_

1. **Her Situation**

"I suppose someone should go after her, don't ya think?" Killua lazily drawled, "Mike's out after all. Dad'll be pissed if a customer gets eaten."

"Well it's not going to be me!" huffed Milluki, still miffed at her refusal to visit his doll collection...again.

A long-suffering sigh came from the back of the room. Placing a small, well-worn copy of _Tropical Venomous Spiders and Their Effects on the Human Nervous System_ onto a nearby table, Illumi Zaoldyeck unfolded his long legs and stretched. "I know. I'll go," he said resignedly. "You could hardly be expected to reach her in time anyway." This last remark directed witheringly at Milluki, who averted his eyes but pointedly sniffed unconcernedly while continuing to scroll through text on his cell.

The object of this discussion was at the moment enjoying the beautiful grounds of the Zaoldyeck home on Kukuru Mountain. A mid-autumn day, warm and inviting, had lured Lucia VerHoffen from the cold dark confines of the mansion, and despite some small misgivings from the look she had seen exchanged between the Zaoldyeck offspring when she'd stated her intention to go for a walk, she was feeling more light-hearted than she had earlier on this visit.

Not that visiting the Zaoldyecks was hard or really onerous in any way. They were hired help after all. Expensive, important, uniquely qualified hired help, but paid for all the same. This put the onus on them as hosts and made for much less bowing and scraping, and ego stroking than other visits she accompanied her father on. Luther VerHoffen was a fixture in Padokia's political world, and was determined to bring up his daughter as he himself had been raised, with the knowledge and skills to use all of that world's important tools, from flattery and bribery, to threats and the much more permanent solutions that had necessitated their current presence here.

She had been part of her father's entourage for as long as she could remember; further back even, as a pretty baby can be used as a distraction, or as a play for sympathy, or a conversation starter. And sometimes, people thought that a man who doted on his child must be soft, and so might underestimate Minister VerHoffen. Not more than once though. Now, at fifteen and just coming out of that awkward stage, Lucia suspected she might soon be used for a different type of distraction, but certainly not here. Mrs. Zaoldyeck had apparently fallen in love with her infant self (well the poor woman did have five boys), and visits here had always meant a lot of attention and being fussed over by the lady of the house. To this very end, today she was dressed with obvious femininity, rosy colors, and gauzy fabric. A costume was a small price to pay to please someone useful. But it had been a waste, as Mrs. Zaoldyeck's skills were especially suited to the current job her father wanted done, and so she, in addition to her husband, had been locked in plans and negotiations with the Minister for the past three hours.

This meant Lucia had been left with the Zaoldyeck boys. Now a professional politician prides him or herself on being able to deal with anybody, and Lucia fancied herself well on the way to pro status. And it's not as if she hadn't had practice with all sorts of people already, and it's not as if she didn't already know the boys, she'd seen them once or twice a year for her entire life. But it is a very different thing to be with children and their effusive mother, and to be with them alone. She'd only met four of them anyway, but those were the four present when she was shown to that stone walled room.

Kalluto, the littlest, perhaps five or so, was sitting on the floor, on a rug made of the hide of some dead animal. He was playing with several dolls. He was dressed like a doll himself. A beautiful Japanese doll…. a _girl_ doll…. Mrs. Zaoldyeck must be getting desperate, Lucia thought. On closer inspection, those weren't dolls he was handling, but rather anatomical models, the kind with removable multicolored organs. What a clever way to familiarize children with anatomy, deduced Lucia. Against the back wall, under the lone window, curled like a cat on a ledge, the oldest brother Illumi was reading. She'd never spoken much to him. He had held himself apart on her other visits, as older children usually do around younger ones. In between those two, sprawled on his side on the stone floor, lay Killua, seven or eight, Lucia guessed, running his skateboard back and forth with his hand, giving a ride to what appeared to be a boiled clean monkey skeleton. She supposed that had come from the same "Fun with Biology" box as the models that the Zaoldyeck parents gave their kids to play with. And to her right, seated in the only comfortable chair in the room, was Milluki.

She didn't have to guess his age. She knew. They were the same age. He had reminded her of that fact several times, on previous visits. As though that meant they should stick together. She herself had picked him out as needy and likely to latch on to her and she had done nothing to discourage it until the summer of her thirteenth year.

Mrs. Zaoldyeck had had a dressmaker's appointment and Milluki had suggested they go to his room and he would show her his models. Lucia had thought they would be planes or cars, or maybe monsters or robots. But no, they were a different sort of anatomical model, with childlike faces, but huge breasts and strange holes and plastic ridges. They gave her the creeps. Then he offered to teach her a brand new, as yet unavailable, video game. She had sat down in front of his impressive computer system while he stood behind and reached across her to the controller. He put his hands on top of hers and his arms reached around both her and the chair. He began to demonstrate the moves with the controller; all the while moving his arms up and down so his forearms kept brushing against her chest. She pushed herself back into the chair but his arms pulled back too. "Thanks. I've got it!" she chirped, wrenching the controller from his grasp. Somewhat relieved she began to play the game. It was quite good, really involving for a first person shooter and she was completely absorbed in it. It seems Milluki was as well, from all the sounds he was making behind her. The "Oh, oh, yeah", the grunts, the heavy breathing and what was that squishy wet sound? Up from the chair she shot, ripping off the headset and dropping the controller onto the chair. "Gotta go now, Milluki." She had bolted from the room, not looking back to confirm or deny her suspicions but recovering her equilibrium enough to add a hasty, "Thank you for showing me the game," from the relative safety of the hall. After all, politeness shows control, and control is power.

Now she faced four sets of dark assessing eyes. Whether blue or black, all the Zaoldyeck children had dark, judgmental eyes. They were utterly and completely still for half a dozen heartbeats…and then they went back to what they had been doing. It was like some kind of unspoken test or rating. She wasn't sure if their reaction, or lack of one, meant she had passed or failed. But she bravely shouldered on, stopping first with the one she considered to be the easiest, the youngest, Kalluto.

Kneeling down on the fur she played about with the dolls, she asked about his lessons, if he wanted her to read him a story. She re-arranged the clips in his dark lustrous pageboy and talked about anything she could think of that might interest a five year old. He was so quiet and passive that after a while she began to think of him as a doll instead of a little boy, and then she knew she'd better stop and move on.

She looked over to Killua, running that skateboard methodically back and forth; she didn't have to look at Milluki. She'd felt his eyes on her since entering the room. Deciding to face him sooner rather than later, and while she still had some excuse for escape, she turned to her right. Milluki immediately locked eyes with her and began to get out of the chair. Huh? Had he always been that heavy? Well, she decided, he'd always been pudgy and soft, but this was different. He was definitely on the road to obesity, but she didn't think his hungry need for attention and affirmation could be satisfied by food. Almost before she noticed it, he had her hand in his own warm, slightly damp, sweaty one; and completely unbidden, memories of two summers past clouded her mind. It was hard for her to even hear him, but it sounded like he was offering to show her something on his computer, or the models… in his room. "No, no, thank you," she retorted, as calmly as she could, though her stomach had begun to churn on its own. "I'm way out of practice. Haven't played in a couple of years. It would be wasted on me." Maintaining a frozen smile, she reclaimed her hand and rapidly turned away. And if there was a tiny pang of sympathy at the young man's distress and loneliness, it was quickly squashed as the situation was filed, with the callousness of youth, under: Not My Problem.

Illumi was given a surreptitious glance, but like some castle gargoyle, he was seemingly affixed to the wall, unmoving, nose planted in the book. She wasn't going to interrupt that, since she could afford to wait until they had to leave and she and her father made their formal goodbyes. The eldest son always took part in that; so she would have that opportunity to acknowledge his existence, and she couldn't be faulted for rudeness. And who knows? Maybe he had some exam he was studying for, if assassins had such things. She left him alone and approached Killua.

"Did you know him?" she inquired after the monkey.

Killua didn't look up but answered, "Yeah."

Pause. "Was he a friend of yours?"

A slight hitch in the rhythmic rolling… "He was real mean and nasty, and when you got too close, he'd bite ya. He can't do that anymore." This was said almost without inflection, but when he finished, Killua looked up and smiled.

"Oh," she uttered perfunctorily. How was one to respond to that? Sympathy was apparently not warranted.

Perhaps she was going about this the wrong way. The Zaoldyecks were cooped up here on this remote mountain. She regularly traveled around the world. Maybe they would enjoy hearing the latest news and gossip. "Well I just returned from school to the Capital…." And for almost an hour she endeavored to regale the room with tales of juiciest gossip, the most vicious intrigue, and the most embarrassing faux pas that she could remember, until Killua finally stopped rolling his skateboard and turned his head to look up at her. He didn't say anything, but his expressive eyes spoke volumes about how her monologue had been received.

"Well, it certainly looks to be a fine day," she continued, not missing a beat. She'd been looking on and off at the window above Illumi while she had been talking, as every so often, beautiful gold and crimson leaves would blow up against it like autumnal butterflies. "I think I'll treat myself to a walk around your lovely grounds. Please don't trouble yourselves, I can see myself out." She caught a brief pointed look between Kalluto and Killua, but not knowing what to make of it and feeling that whatever it was couldn't be as bad as what might result from her staying in the room and completely losing it, turned on her heel like a marionette and briskly marched outside.

Lucia had never seen the Zaoldyeck grounds, from the ground. She and her father had always arrived by airship. The trees had looked beautiful from the sky, but here, walking through them, they were spectacular, The Forest Primeval. Of course, since she had always arrived from the sky, Lucia had no idea of the massive wall and gates that surrounded the estate, or of the terrible guardian that dwelt on these grounds.


	2. His Situation

2.** His Situation**

Illumi lightly sprinted to the door and shielded his eyes from the rapidly setting sun. Yes, she'd gone west, right into the sun, he sighed. He thought about returning inside, to get some binoculars and a look from one of the upper floors, but he doubted he had the time. Vaulting into a large tree, he climbed to very near the top and scanned the foliage that stretched before him. There was a stiff breeze this high in the canopy, but still he thought he could make out some movement of the smaller trees, which might indicate someone passing through, and more alarmingly, he could clearly make out the large movement of even mature trees rapidly approaching the other line at a right angle to it. Forget Milluki not being able to, he didn't know if _he_ could make it in time.

Fluidly dropping from his elevated perch to the shadowed path below, Illumi began to dash in the direction the wandering visitor had apparently gone. Dark hair streaming behind him, Illumi would have appeared as a mere blur or shadow if anyone had been trying to watch his passing. All of the Zaoldyecks were fast. Perhaps a few years ago, Silva might have been the fastest, and no one really knew what the still incredible Zeno had been capable of in his prime, but even accounting for his natural modesty, Illumi would have to admit that he was likely, currently, the fastest Zaoldyeck alive. Years of rigorous conditioning insured that he could maintain this pace for hours if need be, and over much more difficult terrain, so his mind was free and could focus on other things, such as how this nettlesome situation had come about, and how he could, somehow, rectify it.

He had been a little surprised when Mother had asked him to get his brothers and bring them to that tower room. She almost never gathered her children together; and their father, who did so frequently, in order to go over and critique missions, assignments, or techniques and tools of the trade, would never have chosen that small, relatively comfortable room. He preferred to hold those long, often grueling sessions, in the Main Hall, usually positioning himself facing them, in front of one of the massive fireplace mantels, often seated on a large impressive chair that would be the _only_ chair in the room.

Curiosity had been quickly satisfied when the VerHoffen daughter had entered the room. It did not require his keenly honed powers of observation and calculation to reason out that Mother, who always doted on this particular visitor, was currently unable to do so, and that he and his brothers were being offered as substitute hosts. After a brief, automatic assessment of identity (VerHoffen, Minister of the Interior, Padokia; daughter, Lucia), current appearance (173, three or four centimeters taller than eight months ago), and offensive and defensive threat potential (for all physical and _Nen_ purposes, nil), he returned to his reading. He had had the foresight to bring one of his very favorite books with him, a volume that combined his mother's specialty, poisons, with his own burgeoning interest in the pathways and impulses of the nervous system. It was a rare treat to have some free time to revisit its well-worn pages.

At almost five years older, Illumi had never had to interact much with this guest, and he didn't expect to now either. He knew she was of particular interest to Milluki; and had even on occasion heard him mention her name, so he felt himself free of any obligation to socialize with her. She, however, appeared to have other ideas, proceeding to go around the room presumably to engage each of them in turn. When she reached Milluki, Illumi could not help but notice in her aura feelings of disgust and repulsion, laced with a little pity and maybe a dash of fear. She knows Milluki better than I thought, Illumi wickedly mused, and the corner of his mouth twitched up in a small smile. He was careful to keep his eyes firmly focused on the page before him though, as she was once again looking at him, and he had no desire to be interrupted and interrogated. Let her think he had read an amusing passage.

At last she skipped over him and proceeded to Killua, and Illumi was happily engrossed in his favorite chapter on the Brazilian Wandering Spider, when he noticed a distracting sound. Risking a lightning quick glance, he saw that their guest had abandoned the idea of accosting them each individually and was now pontificating to the room in general. Standing tall, smiling, with arms spread in graceful gesture, she was declaiming the most useless rubbish he had ever heard.

Now Illumi was meticulous in gathering information about targets and clients as well, but _this_ information was completely pointless. He recognized all of the actual names given, and most of those persons alluded to in innuendo, but the information was vague and unsubstantiated, the sources uncorroborated or unidentified. And why bother to learn this now, as how would he know if these persons were likely to ever be targets or clients? And if and when they were, at that point this information would be hopelessly outdated.

He began to feel irritated…and resentful. He had almost no time he could call his own, to do with as _he_ pleased. Why was this being denied to him? His eyes burned on the page, but he couldn't see the words anymore. He would treat this as a test. Her voice's timbre was not unpleasant; he just had to school himself to listen to the sound, and not the prattling words, and think of it as a kind of birdsong. This might have worked had not Illumi also been occasionally distracted by birdsong, feeling that it was like a beautiful language just beyond his ability to grasp. But after all, how long could she talk?

Apparently, being a politician's daughter, for quite some time… Killu finally brought it to an end with his well-practiced condescending look, and after she had left, the silence had felt so comfortingly familiar; Illumi hadn't wanted to break it. But he should have, and he knew it. Not only was it important that the Zaoldyecks be on good terms with the political power in Padokia to remain unmolested and maintain their virtually autonomous state on Kukuru Mountain, but in addition, her father was a customer. And not just an ordinary customer, no, he was the kind Grandfather Zeno lovingly referred to as: A _Repeat_ Customer. Not only did Minister VerHoffen avail himself of their services often enough to receive a regular 25 percent discount, he had even earned their ultimate customer reward, a Free Removal, _twice_. And he wasn't likely to look favorably on the removal of his own daughter, especially since, after the man's wife's death several years back; she was apparently his only family.

No one had to tell Illumi the importance of Family. Family was the one thing in the world that counted and could be counted upon, the one thing that mattered. Your family _knew_ you and you knew them, naked before them, as they were naked before you. It determined your place in the scheme of things. It defined who you were. Where you came from when you came into the world, it would be all that remained of you when you left it.

He knew he would be blamed, and he was to blame. He hadn't even moved to act before Killu called him on it. As the only adult in that room, and as the oldest sibling, he would be held responsible for all their actions and for any unfortunate outcome. He was confident he could endure whatever physical punishment would be meted out; but he stumbled slightly, breaking his gait, when he thought of the look Silva would give him. He knew that the looks Father gave Killua, the proud smiles, the way his piercing eyes shone and crinkled at the edges last week, after Killu had been dodging his knives in a training session, these Illumi knew were not for him, not ever. But Illumi could still hope for the clear-eyed gaze he sometimes received when he was given a schedule of tasks, or an assignment, a look that conferred confidence in his ability to complete it. That it was no longer of concern or interest because Illumi would handle it. He would rather be flayed alive than see a look of reproachful disappointment again directed at him.

These thoughts added a little extra push to his steps as he sped down the loamy path. He didn't hear anything violent yet, and that was a good sign, because Mike was a noisy eater. And after what they had been through that afternoon, he very much doubted that Miss VerHoffen would be a quiet meal.


	3. Run, Rabbit

3. **Run, Rabbit**

She was beginning to get bored of the path. Very few dead leaves were underfoot, as the path was obviously well maintained, and they had recently been swept into piles on the sides. It was beautiful; a verdant tunnel with a translucent roof of overlaid greens, reds, and golds, but it was starting to look exactly the same, on and on. The forest sounds weren't unchanging though. The twittering of birds and the rustling of branches had remained constant, but for the last few minutes the vaguely whistling sound of the breeze had changed. There was an added huffing sound, and Lucia heard what sounded like faint crunching. She stopped to listen more carefully, but then she couldn't hear the crunching sound anymore, although the odd wheezing wind continued.

The creepiness of that meeting with the boys must have gotten to her, she thought. Because now she felt as though she was being watched, even though there was obviously no one on the path, and she couldn't see anything in the surrounding woods, already darkening as the afternoon was drawing to an end. Lucia decided she would only walk a little further on before starting back; it looked like the path was reaching some kind of destination up ahead. She started walking again…and the crunching sound resumed.

Lucia whirled around. "Who's there?" No answer. She peered harder into the trees. She couldn't see anything. Wait. There, slightly behind her and to the right, didn't the forest look a little darker? She walked toward it to get a closer look. Definitely darker, there was something besides the trees blocking the light. As she approached, the air around her seemed to be getting warmer.

Then the birdsong stopped.

She turned, and began to run. A universal, prehistoric memory had awakened and sounded an alarm. She was being hunted.

Behind her she heard that odd wind, that _breathing_, but there was no more crunching of the leaves. It was with her now on the path itself. She wasn't going to waste time to turn around and see what it was, frantically scanning her surroundings looking for some kind of shelter. Up ahead on the left, a few meters off the path, three large elms were standing close together in a circle with less than half a meter separating each of them. Maybe she could squeeze between two of them and hide in the center? It would have to do, because the breathing behind her had gotten close enough for her to feel it on the back of her legs.

Throwing herself from the path, she burst through the dead leaves bordering it, and turning sideways, wedged herself between the trees. The rough bark snagged at her dress, but she squeezed through, reaching a kind of chimney in the middle of them. She was almost completely out of breath, and was gulping in air as fast as her lungs could take it.

She wondered how long she would have to wait before someone came looking for her. The massive trunks were almost two meters in diameter, and there was barely enough room for her to fit between, so she felt relatively safe from whatever had been pursuing her. That inky darkness in the trees had looked pretty big, and the breathing had been very loud. What kind of animal was it? Did the Zaoldyecks just let wild animals roam in their woods? Maybe some giant Kitsune-Guma had entered uninvited. She had calmed down enough to be curious, so she turned her head to look through the opening between the safeguarding trees.

Filling the space on the outside was an impossibly long snout. Lucia was tall. Of the Zaoldyecks, only Illumi and Silva were taller, but this snout was at least as long as she was tall, if not longer. It was bordered with fang-like teeth, visible because the creature was panting, and from those teeth hung unspeakable _pieces _of something… or someone. Lucia shrank back as far as she could from it.

Then there was a new sound, a creaking, a groaning. The tree under her left hand began shuddering and she moved away from it as the sound changed again to a sharp splintering, followed by a crash. One of the giant trees protecting her had simply been pushed over. And now she stared face to face with the most baleful, soulless, yellow eyes ever created.

There are cat people and dog people, and if asked, Lucia would have probably said she was a dog person, but this was no dog. This was a monster. The beast's front legs were bent, to bring it closer to the ground and to her, and she tilted her head up to look at the rest if it. It must have extended back ten meters, not counting the tail, which was _not_ wagging.

She dove between its front legs, underneath its body, hoping its massive size combined with the density of the trees would slow its turning. She ran through the trees now, choosing the narrowest openings possible and eschewing the path, but paralleling it and heading in the direction it had been going because surely it must lead somewhere! She needed to reach some building or shelter or grounds keeper…

The path led to a small clearing with wild flowers and fallen logs artfully scattered to serve as benches. She was pitched forward by a sudden shake of the ground, catching herself with her hands on one of the benches. The beast had jumped and landed right behind her. Everything felt so unreal, like she was in a rabbit's nightmare, running from a giant Borzoi.

Slowly she turned to face it. Dimly she registered the smell of its breath, like a thawed abattoir, and she idly wondered, how could she not have noticed that first, as overpowering as it was? She swallowed the lump in her throat and slowly began to extend her left arm.


	4. NearDeath and Transfiguration

4.** Near-Death and Transfiguration**

And that was the tableau that met Illumi's eyes when he burst from the path into the clearing, skidding slightly as momentum carried him still forward, observing the scene to assess, evaluate, and determine a course of action.

Mike hunched down in front of his prey; Miss VerHoffen, still alive, looking a little dazed and disheveled, with her hand stretched out in front of her. What was she trying to do, _pet_ Mike? Unwilling to risk that his voice command would not be understood and complied with in time, Illumi elected to launch himself directly between the two, simultaneously shouting, "Back, Mike! Back!" and shoving Miss VerHoffen out of the way.

Eyes never leaving the loyal, fearsome animal his father had trained, Illumi continued to command its retreat in a lowered voice, even as he praised it for its watchfulness, "Good dog. Good Mike." Mike's eyes lit up as his tail raised and began to swat the surrounding trees with its wagging. His giant tongue lolled from his mouth in greeting, but Illumi managed to avoid most of it by burying himself between Mike's enormous head and shoulder, and reached up, scratching him behind one ear. "Go back, Mike. Go rest." Mike leaned into Illumi briefly, then woofed and lifted his head, turning and heading back to his kennel, located not far from the front gates of the estate.

Illumi dusted off the leaves and twigs and dog hair, and turned to locate Miss VerHoffen. After a brief survey of the ground within his field of vision, he saw…her shoes. It would seem he had pushed her with a little too much force, knocking her off her feet and out of her shoes. And what ridiculous shoes they were. More like slippers than shoes, they were unsuited for even the modest rigors of walking. He had at first believed them to be made of velvet, but closer examination revealed them to be suede, albeit the softest, thinnest chamois. They were dyed a deep rose and each had a satin ribbon threaded around the edge, presumably to hold it on. It had failed in its task.

"Miss VerHoffen?" Silence. "Miss VerHoffen?" he tried a little louder; still no response. A small worry began to creep into Illumi's mind. Had he been so focused on coming between her and Mike that he had hit her with enough force to injure her? That was a troublesome idea for someone who prided himself on his perfect control. No, he didn't think he could ever be that unaware, and even if that were the case, the girl's body had to be somewhere close by. He tucked her shoes into his waistband in the back and went looking.

He didn't have to look far. Behind one of the logs that served as rustic garden benches, lying in a pile of leaves either blown there by the wind or knocked down by Mike, was his quarry. The height of the bench had prevented him from seeing her before, but she hadn't really traveled any great distance. Still, it was apparent from her lack of response and her current motionlessness, that she was unconscious. Had her head connected with the log on the way down? Or was there a rock, or other hard object hidden under the leaves? He'd better check.

The clearing was almost entirely in shadow as Illumi knelt down and leaned forward to feel under her head. Like the last gasps of a dying man, the sun was throwing out brilliant golden rays in a futile effort to flout the coming darkness. One of them pierced through the surrounding trees, both blinding and illuminating. It struck Lucia and Illumi.

Everything seemed to freeze, as if the world was having its picture taken. It had taken a breath, and was holding it. Transformed in the golden glamour of the light, beneath him no longer lay the adolescent child of an important client, but an enchanted woodland nymph, a Titania. Her chest steadily rose and fell with her gentle breathing. Woven around and under the red and gold leaves, glinting like the gold leaf on the edges of old, well-bound volumes, her fine hair was spread in a corona around her head. The gossamer dress had ridden up, ghosting her thighs, and her legs had taken on the hue and sheen of alabaster. Her cheeks were flushed as the roses printed on her clothes, and her lips were slightly parted revealing edges of pearlescent teeth. Her dark gold lashes lay against her cheeks as her eyes were still closed. Illumi found himself struggling to remember their color. Blue? Gray? By some magic power of suggestion, or perhaps because of the light now striking them, they began to open. "Blue-gray," Illumi breathed.

It was like swimming up from the bottom of a lake. You could see the light above, and you knew you needed to reach it, but your arms and legs felt lazy and heavy, and you couldn't breathe under the water. Ever so slowly she felt her mind begin to clear. What had happened? Ah yes, a big monster, her steeling herself, and then…. What was that? Something…. No, _who. _Some_one _had appeared in front of her and knocked her to the ground. Who was that? An annoying light was shining right in her face, and she wanted to tell them to stop and give them a piece of her mind, but first she was going to have to open her eyes and see who they were. Redirecting all her willpower to her eyelids, she found at last she could open them.

At first she couldn't tell what she was looking at, something very dark, surrounded by the undimmed brightness of the sun. Gradually though, she began to be able to discern a figure. First she could only see hair, a raven curtain with highlights of burnished bronze like the armor of Achilles or some other heroic figure of ancient legend. When her vision cleared enough to see a face, all she could focus on were the eyes. Deep, unplumbed pools of mystery set into the whiteness and perfection of a marble statue. He was leaning over her, shielding her by blocking out some of the light, and staring directly into her own eyes intently, as if, just as in the old saying, he could actually see her soul in them. "Illumi?"


	5. Smiles of an Autumn Night

5. **Smiles of an Autumn Night**

Like the total silence that precedes an earthquake, or the highly charged air before the lightning hits, everything waited expectantly. Then Illumi felt like a man who has stood too close to an explosion. A concussive wave struck him, and he wondered if he was internally wounded. Lucia's world was imploding. Everything she saw, or knew, or felt, was rapidly drawing together, collapsing in on itself, coalescing into a tiny crystal that might be crushed if she moved.

But time did not stop, the Earth continued to turn on its axis, and that last sunbeam that had transfigured the pair winked out, abruptly casting the clearing in the soft darkness of mountain twilight.

Sound suddenly returned to Lucia's world. As if by unspoken agreement, the forest noises resumed, rustling foliage, chirping insects. She could hear her own blood rushing in her ears, her heart thudding in her chest, immeasurably louder that the soft breathing of the man above her.

The extinguishing of the light had a reviving effect on Illumi. Darkness welcomed him, releasing him from his languorous stupor. He gracefully withdrew and stood, then bent down to offer his hand. "Do you feel all right, Miss VerHoffen?"

How was she to answer that question? No, my entire world has been destroyed; can I have a new one…with you? She couldn't say that, could she? What did it mean anyway? She had to think…she needed some time…. What _did_ she feel? What were the words?

She hadn't answered. She hadn't moved. She was looking at him and obviously breathing, but otherwise non-responsive. His night vision was exceptional, but in the fast darkening forest he couldn't see much beyond the luminous glow of her pale skin, her shining eyes, and hints of the iridescence of her clothing. "Miss VerHoffen? Lucia?"

Oh Gods! Her name! Her name in his voice! Had he ever said her name in all the years she had been coming to his house? She didn't think so. She couldn't remember. Maybe that was why she hadn't noticed, hadn't seen before that he was so…so….

He was beginning to worry that she had, after all, been injured. It was quite possible that she had received a blow to the head and was suffering from the effects of a concussion. He hadn't examined her, but she was definitely exhibiting some of the symptoms. "If you will stay here, I'll return soon with a doctor."

No. No. He was leaving, going away. She couldn't really see him now. When he had extended his hand she could tell where he was by his eclipsing of the stars above. Now he was straightening in preparation for his departure. Her time was up. She had to speak _now_. What could she say? She had spoken before hadn't she? What had she said? Oh, now she remembered… "Illumi."

He stopped and turned. She'd said his name. That was the second time she'd said it wasn't it? Maybe she was unhurt after all. "Yes…. Lucia?"

Oh again! He had said it again! She had his attention now and had better come up with something. "Illumi…I…. I…" What had he been talking about? A doctor? "No!" she almost shouted adamantly.

"No?"

_No_, now he'll think I'm rude and confusing, she winced internally. "No thank you, Illumi." She'd said his name again. She wanted to say it over and over; like the trill of a flute it was so beautiful. "I don't need a doctor. I'm fine, really." She sat up and smiled at him.

He saw her smile, shining like her eyes in the darkness and smiled slightly himself, though he knew she couldn't see it. He returned to her and proffered his hand. Looking down he noticed that in sitting up, she had drawn her dress up even higher, and now the entire long expanse of her legs was visible. He could feel his pulse and respiration rate quicken. Then she took his hand, and if he hadn't known exactly how that actually felt, he would have said an electrical charge passed between them. Maybe there was some naturally occurring static electricity? It wasn't painful in any case, just startling.

She thought she felt something too as she stood up, but couldn't have described it. His hand was warm and surprisingly soft. For some reason she had expected it to be callused like the hands of the soldiers who regularly guarded her father's home in the Capital. But then, hadn't she heard he was some kind of "specialist"? Perhaps his technique required supple, sensitive hands? This was, of course, the hand of an assassin. How many lives had been ended with this hand? The thought was both chilling and thrilling.

Reaching down with her other hand to dust off her dress, she noticed that it had bunched up and wasn't covering her legs at all anymore. She yanked it down as quickly and unobtrusively as she could, grateful for the darkness that covered her blush, as well as hid her rumpled state. What must she look like, a little girl deshabille from too vigorous play? Illumi was a man of nineteen! How childish and juvenile she must appear to him, she despaired.

"Are you sure you're all right? It wouldn't take long for me to return with help." He'd noticed the heightened color in her face, and while he thought her dress the likely cause, it didn't hurt to check and see how she felt now that she was standing.

He hadn't said her name… but he was still holding her hand! Could he feel her pulse pounding she wondered? She fervently prayed that her hand didn't feel sweaty or clammy. His felt wonderful, of course. "Oh I'm perfectly well," she said, trying to sound as mature and collected as possible. "Perhaps if you would show me the way, it has gotten dark…"

"I understand. Yes. It's this way." And with that he turned and escorted her back to the path.

He was still holding her hand.


	6. The Way Back

6. **The Way Back**

They headed back to the mansion. The path was now stygian. The moon had not yet risen, and no starlight was strong enough to penetrate the canopy of that old growth arbor. Lucia was very grateful for the careful maintenance the path had been given. She couldn't see her hand in front of her face, let alone an object on the path.

That was the reason Illumi was giving himself for not releasing her hand. If he was unable to see anything but vague shadows, she must be, for all intents and purposes, blind. And most people found blindness at least a little disconcerting. They had been walking for a while and he wasn't feeling any distress from her aura, however there were some unfamiliar feelings, along with embarrassment, and lots of curiosity. He wondered how long she would stay silent.

"What _was_ that?"

Not much longer it seems. "What?"

"That creature, before you came."

"Oh. That was Mike."

"Mike. _Mike_? It has a _name_? That terrible monster has a name?"

At that Illumi stopped, and dropped her hand.

"Yes. Mike has a name. Mike is the latest champion of a very rare breed of sighthound developed by the Zaoldyecks." He took a few steps away, turned, and continued, "My father personally trained him, and like his sire before him, he capably, loyally and faithfully protects the Zaoldyeck Family Estate from the many who would seek to harm us."

She was freezing. He had dropped her hand and moved away from her. That was without question the longest speech she had _ever_ heard Illumi deliver. Certainly the longest directed to her, but it was so coldly and unemotionally recited, that it was painfully obvious she had offended. Who could have guessed that the vicious slavering beast was someone's pride…a beloved pet? The sun having departed, the autumn night was chill with hints at an early frost and Lucia's filmy dress was woefully unsuited to the rapidly falling temperature. The cold of the ground stabbed at her bare feet, and she shivered.

There it was… the distress. He could see it pulsing in waves from her aura. He had caused it of course. She had made him angry with her blithe dismissal of Mike and he had wanted to hurt her for it. It was a different world the Zaoldyecks lived in. Every trip he made outside the mountain reminded him of the truth of the lessons drilled into him since infancy. Those living on the other side of these walls could never understand what it was to be a Zaoldyeck. They may occupy the same planet, but they would never live in the same world. She was from that other world, so he supposed it wasn't very fair of him to fault her for her lack of understanding. Now she was standing a couple of meters away, feeling sadness, distress, and hurt, emotions he was quite familiar with having directed at him, though usually from targets, not clients. And she was trembling.

"C-could we p-please go b-back t-to your home now?" Her teeth were chattering, "I l-lost my shoes in the c-clearing…"

The shoes! He was an idiot. Seriously, he was going to devise a new personal training regimen tomorrow morning that involved concentration through multiple painful distractions, because if this little contretemps had addled his brain this far, there was a good chance he could wind up dead from lack of attention to detail on his next job. But what was he going to do about the shoes now? He couldn't very well tell her, 'Oh I've been carrying them around all this time.' After what he had just said to her, she would surely believe he had deliberately made her walk barefoot as some kind of punishment. He didn't want her to think of him as some twisted sadist. He didn't know why, but something cringed inside him when he thought of her looking at him the way she had looked at Milluki.

"I could carry you the rest of the way." It was all he could think of at the moment, and it would solve the shoe problem and the cold problem, in addition to getting them to their destination very much faster. Not that he had thought of the time they were taking walking back together as a problem up to this point. But he didn't have any jacket, or even a vest to offer her, and she was obviously very cold.

"Ha!" arms wrapped tightly around her torso, she barked a bitter little laugh; there was no humor in it, "I don't th-think so. I'm h-hardly a lightweight." Lucia was not heavy, she was tall and slender, but while she knew it would pose no problem for a man to carry her over a mud puddle, or over a threshold, or even across a swollen creek, at fifteen she was almost a woman grown. There was no way Illumi could carry her for the three or four kilometers remaining to his house. He must still think of her as a little child!

She was serious, he could tell. He sighed, as once again, unintentionally, she brought home the differences in their respective situations and perceptions. She had never even seen the giant gates to the estate grounds that every Zaoldyeck must be able to open on his own. He had no idea what it was, but he was certain she didn't measure her weight in tons.

He walked up to her in the darkness. "Put your arms around my neck."

She started, not having heard his approach. "All right, it's your b-back!"

Her arms went around his neck, and there was that feeling again. The dry, cold air must be creating a lot of static. He stooped to put his right arm under her knees, and lifted her off her feet, holding her in front of him. She didn't weigh anything at all, under fifty kilos. He had tried (really) to smooth her dress down under his arm, but apparently it didn't quite reach all the way down to her knees, and so the hem was now slowly sliding down, or rather up, her thighs. It would probably be drafty, but it couldn't be helped. She removed one arm from his neck to push the hem down, or up, but when he started to run she squeaked and hastily put her arm back. He smiled but quickly suppressed it as he ran.

Illumi could run like the wind! Like all girls of her standing, Lucia had had equestrian sports since she was a child, but even a galloping horse seemed slow in comparison to Illumi. It was breathtaking! To judge by his breathing, and the steadiness of his heartbeat under her right ear, he wasn't even exerting himself. She risked a glance up at his face, but she still couldn't see anything, which was a good thing since she could tell by the air rushing by that her legs were completely exposed again. She was going to burn this dress! Well, maybe not. Maybe she would want something to remember this day.

There was no need to hurry their return. Now that he was holding her, he could tell she was warming up. All of her distress seemed to have vanished, and he sensed that she was enjoying herself. Illumi had never thought about running as something either enjoyable or not, but right now, with the spongy earth underfoot, the warm and soft Miss VerHoffen held against his chest, and the woodsy scented air rushing past, he felt that he would like to run on like this forever. He wasn't going at a very fast pace for him, but she had already turned her face into his chest, so he didn't want to go any faster and risk scaring her. He supposed for a non-Zaoldyeck, she had already been through quite a lot, and she _was_ the daughter of a very important client…and it didn't really make much difference if it took a _little_ longer to get back to the house, did it?

Reflexively, Lucia turned her face into his chest to hide her blush, although it was so dark there was no chance he would see it. Something to remember This Day! How could she ever forget it? Had it really been only this morning that her mind had been consumed with thoughts of tomorrow's shopping trip with the daughter of the Prime Minister, getting a suitable Birthday present for her battle-ax of a Great Aunt, reviewing preliminary designs for the upcoming Winter Carnival, and completing her essay for History class? Then her father had asked her to accompany him to the Zaoldyecks' and now the entire world had been distilled down to one thing: Illumi. And right now he was holding her in his arms! She didn't want to think of anything else, she couldn't. It was just too much, too all-consuming. There just wasn't room for anything else, was there?


	7. Parting

7. **Parting**

Just up ahead the lights of the mansion were visible, peeking through at the end of the path. Illumi slowed to a walk as they approached the edge of the woods. The moon had come up at last, and the lawn surrounding the mansion was bright with its light as they left the trees and approached the portico at the rear of his home. He continued to carry her for about a dozen steps onto the lawn, when he realized that it might look improper if he were to continue to do so right into the house. He carefully lowered her to the steps of the portico. As he had run, her hair had been blown behind them, mixing with his own, and dislodging most of the leaves from when she had fallen, but there were still a few tenacious twigs and stems and he instinctively reached out and gently removed them.

They had returned. She stood on the steps of the portico and supported herself leaning against a column. She wasn't sure she could stand unaided. In front of her on the lawn stood Illumi, his fingertips delicately touching and then withdrawing from her hair, the moonlight stripped him of color and made him an angel of pure shining silver. She thought she might weep at his beauty.

She didn't look too steady on her feet, her fair skin almost transparent, her eyes wide and luminous, and her lips and cheeks darker indicating that she was still flushed. He hoped she really was all right. "I apologize for your misadventure, Miss VerHoffen." Then he added, "If you want to see the grounds on your next visit, someone can go with you to insure your safety." And yes, he did have someone in mind.

This was goodbye. He was leaving and she hadn't said anything to him, anything at all. Silver-tongued VerHoffen's daughter was at a total loss for words. She wanted to tell him _everything_. All of her thoughts, hopes, fears, dreams…everything she was or ever could be; and she wanted him to tell her the same things about himself. She needed to know him, and she wanted him to know her. "Illumi?"

"Yes?"

"I'm so sorry about Mike. I didn't realize…I hope I didn't startle him or put him off his food or interrupt his routine…or anything." Could she sound more idiotic? She didn't think so. But she had to let Illumi know. She wanted him to see that whatever was important to him, whatever _he_ valued… she would care about too.

She was sorry…about _Mike_? Mike had tried to eat her. Surely she couldn't be serious. A stabbing feeling, something oddly like regret hit him. She must have thought his defense of Mike meant it was of little consequence if she had been killed, that she didn't matter. Of course she mattered. She was…she was…the daughter of a very important client.

"Lucia, I-"

There was a sudden commotion, the loud sounds of several people approaching. He could hear his mother's shoes clicking on the portico's tiles. "What could possibly have taken this long?" Mother was in front addressing her question to Grandfather Zeno, who followed directly behind her. A little further back, and panting with exertion at keeping up with the pace she was setting, he saw Milluki. That wasn't a good sign. Just outside the doorway to the house proper he thought he could make out Mr. VerHoffen, as well as Killua and Kalluto. He didn't see Father anywhere. That was a very bad sign.

"There you are you poor darling! Oh you must be absolutely freezing. Whatever happened to your shoes?" His mother had seized the girl and was giving her a thorough inspection. She didn't appear happy with the results.

"Oh Madame Zaoldyeck," Lucia always addressed his mother this way, and she seemed to like it, even though Illumi thought it made her sound like a fortune teller, "this situation was entirely the fault of my own selfish thoughtlessness and carelessness." She took both of Mother's hands and looked entreatingly at her face. "Please accept my deepest apologies for all the unnecessary trouble and worry I have caused you and your household." Her powers of speech had obviously returned. She bowed her head and he thought he saw her look at him out of the corner of her eye, but he wasn't certain. His mother, however, turned her face toward him.

"Nonsense," she was talking to Lucia, but continued to face Illumi, "you are our guest, and you can't possibly be expected to be aware of the potential hazards here. That is why it is our _responsibility_ to watch over you." There it was. It was almost anticlimactic when Grandfather addressed him, "Silva is waiting for you, downstairs." Milluki was standing in front of him, wearing a most unpleasant smile. Illumi wondered how long it would be before he would have the opportunity to put some pins in his cables, hopefully when he was in the midst of downloading one of his "films".

Illumi began walking to the house. He turned and said to Zeno, "I have to drop something off in my room. Then I'll report to Father." He saw that Mr. VerHoffen had removed his jacket and draped it over his daughter. They were already heading toward where the airship waited to take them back to their world, on the other side of the wall. He slowed his pace and watched for as long as he could, then he sprinted upstairs to his room the moment he was inside. He reached under his desk and unlatched a hidden drawer, where he kept notebooks of his most secret techniques, and personal observations made of various assignments. On top of these hoarded items he placed her shoes.

He held them briefly, running his thumb over the petal soft surface. After carrying her, he knew the wearer's skin was even softer. He didn't want to leave them, but there was a strong possibility they would be damaged where he was going now, and he wanted them to be perfect when he returned them to her on her next visit. He would tell her he had found them while he was walking through the forest. She was smiling, chatting, and gesturing as he had watched her leaving, so she was apparently fine after all. Next time he would show her the eastern part of the forest. In particular, a dark reflecting pool surrounded by cedars that was a favorite spot of his. He locked the drawer, closed his room, and headed back…downstairs.


	8. Happy Days Are Here Again

8. **Happy Days Are Here Again**

"Well, you must be happy!" the moon-faced woman addressed her companion.

"Hmm." Lucia pulled herself from her focus on the televised numbers to regard her.

"Down by twelve points three weeks ago, and now the vote count shows him leading by ten. A couple of Internet sites have already declared him the winner!" Elizabeth Groesbeck squealed. "I'm going back out to the floor and you should too." And with that she swept from the hotel room, opening the door letting in the sounds of noisy celebration, then closing it to restore the relative quiet.

Must I be happy? Lucia mused. Well she did have that rather satisfied feeling that comes from successfully doing something others said couldn't be done. And election night also signaled the end of her old obligations and the start of some new and possibly more interesting challenges.

It hadn't taken long for her to decide that political office was not for her. The duties and responsibilities were crushingly boring. But that didn't mean she was going to waste years of training and connections. Starting her last summer at university she had been working as a consultant, and now, at twenty-five, she was already near the top of her field, in high demand not only in Padokia, but in neighboring republics as well. It kept her in the thick of the fun part, the campaigning and the election, and away from the dull actual work of governance. She liked to take on the difficult, challenging races; because how else would people know how really good she was? Of the last eight races she'd helped run, she'd won seven, and she didn't really feel too bad about the loss, because honestly, who could have won with a candidate who had four eight-year-old girls chained in his basement? Wait. Now it was eight out of nine!

She chortled. Maybe she was happy? Who knows? It _was_ time to hit the ballroom though. She stood, turned off the television, and adjusted her dress (pastel, not revealing, but flatteringly cut and trimmed in red), checking her hair (straight, long and smooth, the way she had worn it for ten years) and make-up (to add some color to her fair complexion and highlight her lips and eyes) in the mirror on the door. Showtime!

The noise level was impressive, even for a victory celebration. People were thudding up and down the halls carrying balloons and bottles and who knows what. Senator Groesbeck really knew how to throw a party. It looked like half his constituency was here, eating and drinking on the Senator's tab. 'Maybe this is what he was saving those embezzled funds for?' she conspiratorially grinned. No, who better than she, his campaign strategist, to know how tirelessly he toiled for education and healthcare and the elderly and the young and the cute fuzzy little endangered what-evers…and his three mistresses, and most especially his offshore bank account!

When she reached the ballroom proper it was crammed with at least four times the number of people any Fire Marshall would have allowed. So it was a good thing she had paid him off in advance, right? At times like this she really loved being tall. Standing on tiptoe she could see over most of the crowd, and she rapidly scanned the faces. She was looking for her father. He had said he would come, even if he and the Senator didn't see eye to eye on, well…anything.

Politics was for pragmatists, and if Minister VerHoffen was irritated that he (and the country) would be stuck with Groesbeck for six more years courtesy of his own daughter, he hadn't let her know. He had never told her what to do with her life, although she secretly wondered if he didn't think she was wasting her talents on unworthy goals. Luther VerHoffen was such a towering figure. How many girls had grown up seeing their father's picture in the news every week, reading his opinions, hearing his speeches, public and private? She knew that everything he had done, the good and the bad, he had done out of his sense of duty in service to his country.

She didn't see him. Someone was yelling in her ear though. She turned her head to see Senator Groesbeck's pudgy daughter, Elizabeth. "Glad you finally made it! Daddy was looking for you."

For a moment she debated pretending not to hear. It was a credible excuse at the current noise level. What could the Senator want with her now… a photo-op to embarrass her father? She had gotten him reelected, which was certainly more than he deserved. She didn't owe him a thing.

Elizabeth continued, "Chairman Dewalt was with him."

Now she really had to get away. Chairman Dewalt was the Party Chairman…the _Opposition_ Party, her father's longtime nemesis, and political rival for "power behind the throne". Now that she had saved his precious Senator's bacon, Lucia was almost certain he was going to try to secure her services in the upcoming elections for districts that would determine who was Prime Minister. If the Prime Minister's party changed, all the Cabinet Ministers would be replaced. She wasn't ready for political patricide, but she didn't want to decrease her market value by appearing to play favorites. She had scrupulously avoided any party affiliation. She turned to leave.

"Can this be little Lucia?" Big as life, there stood old Dewalt. "Your father must be _so_ proud!" And mean as ever. He was stocky and his hair was white in the center, bordered by dark on either side. This feature, plus his famed tenacity, had earned him the nickname, "The Badger." She privately referred to him with a different nickname, "The Skunk".

"Why 'Uncle' Peter (two could play at this game), aren't you up a little late for a man of your years? You should take things easy and not overexert yourself." He probably wasn't much older than her father, but he was very vain and fancied himself quite the ladies' man, changing wives every five or six years to prove it.

"Actually, I was on my way out, but I couldn't leave without a dance with my Best Girl." He had threaded her arm through his and was drawing her toward the dance floor. It was true that he used to dance with her at all the big Government Balls. She'd thought him quite dashing too…until she was around nine or ten and figured out that he was the man her father had been referring to on those rare times she'd seen him apoplectic over some policy issue. She sighed, 'I guess I'll always be Daddy's Girl.'

They reached the floor and Dewalt turned to her with arms out, ready to dance. Please let it be a Polka or a Jitterbug, or something fast, Lucia prayed. It was a Waltz. Divine retribution for her evil deed in helping to reelect Groesbeck, she supposed. Now he could try to inveigle her into working those elections and she was going to have to find a way to give him some equivocal response.

"Now that Groesbeck is done, what have you got lined up next?" No beating around the bush for The Skunk, ahem, Badger.

"Well I've been thinking of taking some time off and traveling." If enforced hiatus was what it took to get out of this imbroglio, she'd take it; she didn't have any other ideas at the moment.

"You know something that's real hot can cool off quickly if it strays too far away from the heat." He wasn't going to let her go easy.

"Or it can burn out too, if it gets too hot." She had been avoiding looking at him, but on the last word of this retort she looked him right in the eye. She wanted to gauge by his reaction what it was going to take for him to back off, and so she saw _exactly_ when it happened.

On the word "hot", she heard a slight sound from the Chairman, an exhalation of breath, and his eyes widened almost imperceptibly. He stopped dancing and stood motionless, but only for a moment. Then he began to fall forward, into her arms. His weight drove her to her knees, and she carried him down, laying him on his side when they reached the floor. The other dancers stopped and moved back warily, as if the man's collapse was a contagious condition. She felt for a pulse at his neck, but there was nothing. Oh Gods, had he really overexerted himself as she had teased, and died? She felt a little queasy. Out of the corner of her eye she caught the glint of something metal in the hair at the back of his head. She gingerly moved his hair aside to reveal eight, no, nine metal balls the size of small marbles, resting on top of slightly narrower cylinders about the width of two fingers high. Almost without thinking, she grabbed one and began to pull on it. It came out of its unfortunate, organic sheath with surprising ease. And on the Chairman's scalp, only a single swelling drop of blood marked where it had entered. The part that had been inside of him was unevenly coated with a thin, red, shiny film. The cylinder had stopped at his skin, and below that, it was as narrow as a very fine nail or a hatpin, and that part was seven or eight centimeters long. Chairman Dewalt had been pithed.


	9. Ten Years on the Mountain

9. **Ten Years on the Mountain**

It had been her; older, taller, with longer hair and more filled out (though still slender), but unmistakably, irrefutably, her. Illumi's mind was racing even as he himself was running back to the landing site just outside of the city, where the airship waited to take him back to Kukuru Mountain.

Usually, he liked to use this time to go over the mission in his head, replaying the event and noting what worked well, what, if anything, went wrong, or could have been improved upon, and how closely the actual assassination had followed the expected course he had previously made for it in his preliminary plans. Then on the airship he would write his reports, the main one for the head of the Zaoldyeck Family, his father, and occasionally a second one just for himself. The job wasn't done until the official report was made, so this was a good use of otherwise wasted time, and it meant he was free that much sooner for the next job. And that job was more and more frequently, one of his own lucrative personal contracts.

This hadn't been one of those, though. This had been a general Zaoldyeck job that had been given to him. He still did those when he wasn't already booked, so he hadn't been too surprised when he saw his name written next to it in the family Schedule/Assignment book. He had been a little curious about the fact that it was a Political, with a very high price and profile, and that it was for Padokia. All his recent work had been Criminal or Commercial, and Padokia's de facto one party rule had made it an enviable model of stability for corrupt republics around the world. It had been years since the last one, and that had been the much more typically requested "alone at home" type. The kind that could be hushed up, leaving just the intended persons intimidated, not an obvious public murder that would shock and agitate the entire populace.

Why had she been there? That was something for his private report, where he logged his most embarrassing failings. Illumi had thoroughly researched the layout of the hotel, the catering staff he would enter with, and the head table occupants, i.e. the candidate Groesbeck, during whose Victory Celebration this was supposed to occur, his family, and of course, the target, Chairman Dewalt. He had clearly omitted something important, because he had been completely unprepared to see her there. He knew he had let his interest in Padokian politics lapse due to the lack of Political jobs, but wasn't she part of the _other_ Party? How was it possible she was there, dancing in the arms of his target?

Upon his reaching the airship, the steward greeted him at the door and then pulled up the stairs and closed it, preparing for take off. He brought Illumi a tray with a light supper, setting it down beside the mission logbook already on the table. Illumi still was trying to make sense of what had happened.

It had been going exactly as choreographed, but Illumi had elected to make a change on site in the original plan, because the crowds partially obscured the head table, and Chairman Dewalt could slump over dead and just be thought, for hours, to have fallen asleep. That wouldn't fulfill the customer's request for an obvious assassination. He waited until the target got up to leave. After all, as his Party's Chairman he would have to put in an appearance at other candidates' parties that election night, even if those would be losses. Groesbeck's daughter got up and moved toward the front door and the target followed. Illumi thought the front door was probably going to be the best spot for the kill and started to move to get the clearest line for it. But both the daughter and the target stopped short of the door to talk to a woman. From his current position, he could only see the Chairman's face with his almost laughably easy to target striped head. But then Dewalt took the woman's arm and turned, heading back toward the dance floor, and Illumi saw the woman's face.

Even on Kukuru Mountain, where things change at a different pace than the rest of the world, ten years is a long time. His first thought upon seeing her had been, 'I still have her shoes.' Now, all kinds of other thoughts and memories were surfacing. How he had expectantly waited, counting the weeks, then the months; and the first time, about a year and a half later, that Minister VerHoffen had come to visit…alone. The gradually dawning realization that, if you have just barely escaped being eaten alive, even if you got away unharmed, you might not want to go back to that place again. He had been unreasonably angry at Mike then, refusing to have anything to do with him. Until one day, when he had been doing some endurance training in the woods, and Mike had approached him whimpering piteously until he petted him and scratched his ear, and he had remembered how the last thing she had said to him had been her apology to Mike. He had replayed that day in his mind over and over, trying to see what he should have done, how it could have been changed to insure a different outcome, and he must have watched every airship arrival for four or five years hoping to see her again.

But even if time doesn't heal all wounds, they do scab over, and there had been the need for the Hunter's license, and the troubles with Killu, and the training of Kalluto, and his growing private practice to attend to, and so he had to admit that he hadn't thought about her in years. He wondered if she had ever thought about him again at all.

He started to write his report. Since his surprised reaction hadn't changed the successful outcome of the mission, he was going to omit it from the official report; but he was going to include her name in the description of the kill, because, in hindsight, it couldn't have worked out better for the job. Pictures of the Opposition Party Chairman, dead in the arms of his rival's daughter would soon be all over the news. It would look as if Illumi had planned brilliantly for the maximum desired effect, and Illumi was certain _someone_ had planned brilliantly. In fact, when he got back home, for once he hoped he didn't have another job right away, because he was going to do something he had never done before. He was going to do research on an already completed job. And he was going to start by finding out the identity of the client.


	10. Ten Years off the Mountain

10.** Ten Years off the Mountain**

Deposing was exhausting. Telling the same thing over and over to different people, trying to make sure you didn't forget and leave something out, or describe something a little differently and have them start over again to make sure it was right. After this last time she had made a break for the coffee machine, where she now stood, drinking the watery brew, and clutching a donut, her pilfered prize from an unguarded neighboring desk. She was dead on her feet, and she hadn't even met with the press yet. Oh joy. It still didn't seem quite real that only a few hours ago a man, someone she had known since childhood, had died… right in front of her eyes! She had seen his life wink out like someone had thrown a switch. And even though he wasn't exactly her favorite person, all right she didn't like him at all, it didn't seem right that that's all there was to it. You're alive; then you're not. It made her shiver just to think of it.

Of course part of Lucia's nervousness at the police station stemmed from the fact that she still had, in her possession, on her person, one of those "pins". After curiosity had compelled her to pull one out of The Skunk's head, she didn't know what to do with it. She couldn't imagine pushing it back in! And she didn't want to be seen, by the rapidly approaching news photographers, holding it behind the murdered Chairman. So she had slipped it up her sleeve, where it still rested. It was a good thing they hadn't made her walk through a metal detector. Though she really didn't know what it was made of. There was something about it though. Something she had read. She was going online to look it up the minute she was out of here. This hopefully would be soon, before the coroner started comparing the number of pins he had with the number of holes in Dewalt's head!

Where was her father? Not only had he _not_ come to the party, he wasn't here now! She missed him terribly. She needed him now. She was so scared. She hadn't felt this frightened since…

Kukuru Mountain. Ten years had passed since she had set foot in that eldritch realm. That had been the first and only time in her life she had thought she was going to die, but as terrifying as that had been (and if she closed her eyes and concentrated, she could still remember what that monstrous dog Mike had smelled like), that was not the feeling conjured up by that orphic name. Sometimes she imagined she _had_ died on that day. Died as a little girl and been reborn as a young woman. She had cried herself to sleep for months afterward from the pain of separation. And even though she never told her father anything other than that she had gotten lost in the woods, either he sensed something more had happened, or someone had told him, and he never again took her to that otherworldly place.

She thought of Michael Voorhees, the grandson of the last Prime Minister but one. Her first kiss at age six and the first guy she ever fooled around with, although given their high public profiles, they had never dared to go "all the way". They would do that after marriage, and Marriage came after University. She remembered how he looked like a blond Adonis, powerfully built and fair, sitting and smiling happily with both their families, at her graduation. He had had the ring in his pocket. She looked into his limpid blue eyes, and knew she could never do that to him, could never trap her friend in a loveless political marriage. She saw tears in his eyes that day. You could see everything in Michael's eyes, they were so transparent and shallow, and not the way eyes should be at all… dark and profound.

The political situation in Padokia had stabilized to the point that her father had no need of the Zaoldyeck Family's particular skills, but she continued to extend them social invitations (always declined) and to send Holiday cards in which she would always, as a matter of course, inquire about the boys and which were always responded to by Mrs. Zaoldyeck's secretary (although they were _signed_ by Mrs. Zaoldyeck), stating that they were all doing very well.

And still sometimes she had these dreams where a black swan would swoop down from the starry sky to carry her on its back flying higher and higher, and faster and faster. She would always wake up before she could find out where she was going.


	11. Strange Odors Come to Me

11. **Strange Odors Come to Me**

It was late afternoon of the next day when she finally got back to the house in the Capital. Ex-Prime Minister Voorhees had come to her rescue, providing not only a car and driver, but taking care of the press as well, doing his best "indignant elder statesman" act and shaming them for hounding an "emotionally devastated young woman". He really was a master. Her father had never come. She waved to the guard at the front gate and walked up to the door. It was very quiet. It was _Wednesday_, of course! And the household staff left early. Wednesdays she and her father always went out in the evening, either together or separately. But going out was the last thing she wanted to do now. She hoped she could find a sandwich, heck, she hoped she could find a key. No, she'd just go in from the back. There was a set of French doors that you could unlatch if you jiggled them just so.

Though the white columned façade of the house had still been sunny, the garden at the back was already cast in shadow. She moved hastily to the third set of doors and was about to commence her "break-in" when she heard something, or felt something or… she wasn't sure what that was, but something was there. She slowly turned around and peered, past the veranda, past the burbling fountain and the flowerbeds, toward the willows at the rear of the garden. It was there she saw him.

Now Lucia _knew_ that she had magical powers. A powerful, troublesome, adversary attacks and is struck dead. A long, lost, dream is wished for, and it appears! He was exactly as she had remembered him, impossibly tall, impossibly slim… impossibly beautiful. He still wore his hair long, like the knights in _romans courtois_, but unbound. No fighting man could wear his hair free like that, but Illumi wasn't that kind of fighter was he? No face offs across a field of honor. He struck an unprepared opponent, unexpectedly from the shadows. And it slowly dawned on her that that was where he was right now… or had been, because between one thought and the next, he was beside her. "We should go inside, Miss VerHoffen."

It wasn't a dream. In her dreams he never called her Miss VerHoffen. She shook open the door and they entered the solarium. She noticed a table moved to the middle of the room, where it would stand out. On it was a huge floral display, a magnum of champagne in a cooler, an iced bowl of caviar, and an envelope. She took out the note:

_My Darling Daughter,_

_Here's a little something to help you celebrate. The food riots caused by the drought in the Eastern Provinces have gotten worse and I won't be able to celebrate with you. Please know that my thoughts are with you and I am so proud and happy to be_

_Your Loving Father_

Now that didn't sound right. The drought was six months ago, and the last riot at least three weeks ago. Had he just wanted to avoid seeing Dewalt's gloating face? He needn't have worried. It just didn't make sense; it stunk like three-day-old fish. In fact, she could actually _smell_ the rotten fish now. Ugh, the caviar! The ice had melted in the formerly sunny room and it now reeked. "Please pardon me, Illu- Mr. Zaoldyeck. I have to take care of this." She dashed to the powder room under the stairs and dumped it in the toilet. She rinsed the bowl three times in the sink. It was still rank. She grabbed a handful of potpourri from the counter and tossed it in, leaving the bowl. Then she went out and closed the door behind her. She suddenly was reminded of Mike's breath and giggled. Maybe Illumi's beauty was balanced by fate with foul odors. Well, it was worth enduring then! And speaking of "Mr. Zaoldyeck"…time for "Miss VerHoffen" to find out what was going on.

"Sorry about that. The champagne seems relatively undamaged. Will you pour, or shall I?" There were about a dozen glasses on an adjacent table, another anomaly. Father didn't expect her to come home alone? He expected her to bring the rival Party's _party_ back here? Illumi hadn't made a move, so she pulled the bottle from the cool water. Illumi took it then, adroitly removing the foil and metal cage and popping the cork. It looked like he was good at this. He was probably good at everything. She giggled again. She hadn't had any sleep for over forty-eight hours and had only eaten half a stale donut in around thirty, so some might think it would be unwise to consume champagne before attempting to interrogate an assassin, but if you couldn't be incautious after having the biggest victory of your career, watching a man murdered in front of you, smuggling evidence out of a police station, being suddenly visited by the man you've pined over for a decade, and receiving strange uncharacteristic notes from your Dad, when could you? Lucia felt indestructible!

She grabbed a glass and held it out to him. Illumi paused, "Miss VerHoffen, do you-"

And she was going to stop _that_ right now. "Please, call me Lucia," she interrupted; gesturing with the glass, "and I will call you…" Here she paused, stepping closer to him. She saw his eyes widen infinitesimally as he filled her glass. "…whatever you wish!" She turned away to hide her laugh. Getting this information was going to be fun. A man was killed in her arms and less than twenty-four hours later; there was an assassin in her solarium. These events could not possibly be unrelated.

"I have no wishes or preference."

Well, that was no fun. And he wasn't drinking. Lucia put down her glass; picked up the bottle that Illumi had put down and filled another glass, shoving it toward him as she said, "No preference, no preference at _all_?" He was holding the glass, but he still wasn't drinking. She put the bottle back, picked up her own glass again and continued on petulantly as she drank and paced back and forth in front of him, "What if I wanted to call you Clarence…or Marie? How about Hey You…or Grumpy Pants?"

"I know!" She stopped pacing and stood toe to toe with him. "I'll just call you Pin Boy!" At that name she dropped the pin into her hand and raised her arm simultaneously, using another of the card tricks picked up as a kid, like the one she had used to conceal it in the first place. The pin was now held in her curved hand between her first and second finger, ball and cylinder on top and spike hanging down her palm, and around her wrist…Illumi's hand, holding her in a firm, unbreakable, though not uncomfortable grip. She hadn't seen him move, of course. She had wanted to startle him. To make him think she knew more than she did, so that he would tell her what he knew, but now he was staring hard at her. And his eyes hadn't widened… they'd narrowed. She may have overplayed her hand.


	12. Sweeter than Honey

12. **Sweeter than Honey**

That was another thing he hadn't been prepared for. Of all the things he thought he might see at this haphazard meeting, he hadn't expected to see one of his pins in her hand.

He had started his investigation with the easiest connection he had, the money. He had been paid a King's Ransom (or a Chairman's) but it had come from a scrambled code account. Those could be broken, but it meant dealing with Milluki. He wanted to keep his money and his dignity a little longer than that. He moved on to the Schedule book. The entry was in Zeno's hand so he simply asked who had asked for the job. Zeno told him Silva had given it to him, and said the client asked him to assign Illumi. That was a dead end. If Silva had wanted him to know, he would have told him. If he didn't tell him, and Illumi asked, not only would he not be told anything, he would be punished. Illumi had managed to avoid any serious punishment for several years, and he wasn't eager to have his streak come to an end.

The whole thing was strange. Clients were always listed. There was a line for their name. Unless it was something really routine like a killing in Skylark Park, which was where the Fabio Brothers offed their problems, they were _always_ listed. And there had been nothing routine about this job. He remembered that a couple of years before, he had been with one of the girls who worked at the estate's telephone system. Would she tell him anything?

Apparently yes. One night's dalliance netted him a list of numbers that had called the mansion on the day of the entry, and back to three days before. Checking through the list was very easy, because of the meticulous accounts on the other jobs (and the phone sex for Milluki). So ultimately one number was unaccounted for, and that number was a government office, Padokia's Office of Interior Ministry.

How to know _what_ that means? He didn't have enough information. Was someone trying to scare someone? Or were they trying to frame someone? Perhaps they wanted to stop someone. And were they finished, or were there going to be other jobs necessary? There was one prominent person he saw during that job who had a connection to the Interior Ministry, Lucia VerHoffen. And if it was a message, was it for her or her father? They had _asked_ for Illumi before. Illumi was getting a very uncomfortable feeling. His calendar was free for the next ten days. He could be assigned. He'd better get booked, now. And he thought he knew of the perfect job.

And so he had slipped over the wall into her garden. He had frozen when he saw her there. He knew the house was empty before she had been dropped off at the front. Why had she come around to the back? She didn't seem very surprised to see him, though. She looked tired and distracted. When they went inside she had read her father's note (which he scanned when she left the room) and didn't like something about it. He would have to find out what it was later. After she returned from disposing of the caviar she seemed to be feeling a little better, but then she wanted to drink alcohol. She was already at the edge of her endurance. Was she looking to collapse? But she was insistent. She wouldn't listen to him; she wanted him to impair himself with the champagne, too. He had to get her to stop and listen. And then…

There, in the hand of this shining eyed, imprudent young woman, one of his pins. In her hand it was an abomination, he grabbed her wrist without thinking, and at last she stopped. But it was all wrong. She was looking at him in fear. Well, why not? Didn't she have the proof he was to be feared in her hand? On another level, Illumi had to admit to himself that it was exciting him to see her there with one of his weapons held between her fingers. She was almost holding it correctly, too; maybe she would be a natural like Killu. Where had she gotten it? Had she drawn it herself from Chairman Dewalt's head?

"Illumi?"

So she had decided on a name for him. And it wasn't Marie.

"You shouldn't touch these things. Sometimes they're coated with poison." He put his glass and then hers on the table behind him; then used his freed hand to gently pull the pin from her now lax fingers. Her hand was stained with dried blood and gore, so he pulled it toward himself, and slowly ran his tongue from the heel of her palm up through her first two fingers. Lucia promptly fainted.


	13. Fantasy Illumi

13. **Fantasy Illumi**

His arm went around her waist. This was something he _had_ seen coming. She was bent backwards over his arm like some tango dancer, but he could feel that he was all that was holding her up. She was out. Ideally, she would be put to bed to sleep until tomorrow when she would be largely recovered. But this was no ideal world and he was running out of time. He lowered her to the floor and felt her pulse, a little thready, but not too bad. Her face was white as chalk; he needed to get more blood to her brain. He reached down to her feet and slipped off her shoes. Then he grabbed one ankle in each hand and stood up. He put her feet under his arms with his hands under her knees. With her legs elevated like this it shouldn't take too long for her to come around. She was looking better already. "Lucia, Lucia! Wake up Lucia!"

There was that strange swimming feeling. But why did she have to get up? The campaign had ended; she could sleep in. Why was her bed so hard? It was going to give her a headache. And someone was tickling her behind her knees. No. No. _Ha, ha_. No. "Stop it," she demanded. She opened her eyes and looked up, but then she knew she was still asleep. Illumi Zaoldyeck was standing between her legs holding one of her feet under each arm and tickling the backs of her knees with his fingers. Honestly, her fantasies were getting weirder and weirder. And she could feel the tickling _Ha, ha, ha_. It was unrelenting. "Stop. Stop, please!" She guessed "please" really was the magic word because Fantasy Illumi stopped. And he spoke.

"Miss Ver…Lucia, are you awake?"

Un Uh! Fantasy Illumi was not supposed to call her by that name that made her sound like a simpering debutante! He had slipped up and she was going to give him a piece of her mind…such as it was. "Illumi Zaoldyeck!" It was always best to use as many names as possible when meting out discipline. She didn't know his middle one so this would have to do. "Why is it whenever I'm with you I wind up without shoes and with my dress hiked up to my waist?" To his credit, Fantasy Illumi blushed and he put her legs down. She liked this new Fantasy Illumi! He slid over to her head and she knew this familiar part of the dream. This was where he kissed her. But the new Fantasy Illumi was taking his time just sitting back on his legs looking at her. Maybe she had scared him with her mean talk. The other part was fun, but she _really_ wanted her kiss from Fantasy Illumi. She held her arms out to him. "Kiss me!"

"Lucia?"

Fantasy Illumi was dumb. This past stupid campaign must have made him stupid too. He had moved to lean over her so he was right over her face, but he was just looking in her eyes with his brows slightly drawn in worry. Don't worry, Fantasy Illumi! I know you can only kiss like Mikey, Karl, that good looking First Lieutenant, and that guy what's-his-name from Summer Camp, but it's not your fault you are limited by my pitiful lack of experience. I love you, anyway! And with that thought, she pulled Fantasy Illumi down on top of her.

Ouch! Fantasy Illumi had hit her ribs with his elbow. That was the first time Fantasy Illumi had hit her, usually she didn't even imagine that he _had_ elbows. His lips had missed too, but he was making up for it now, nibbling on her bottom lip, and soothing it in his mouth. Oh Fantasy Illumi! Her hands flew into his hair, as usual, but it was different too. Usually, it felt like her own hair; but now it felt a lot thicker, heavier, coarser; not nearly as soft, but wonderfully smooth. And her hands could get lost in it. And speaking of hands…

One of Fantasy Illumi's hands was up her dress, between her legs, lightly stroking the inside of her thigh, the other one was behind her head, moving it so he could kiss her deeper and harder. Fantasy Illumi wasn't dumb; he was brilliant! He had learned so many new things! And he smelled different too. Before, he had _always_ smelled like the forest on Kukuru Mountain, but this Fantasy Illumi didn't smell like the forest. He smelled a little bit like soap and sweat, not bad actually, just more like a real person. And, _hee, hee_, he needed a shave. His face was prickly! Now if he'd just let her breathe. She needed to breathe. Breathe, now!

When she had awoken so quickly, he had suspected something was still not right, but her comment about the dress and shoes was accurate, so he thought she might be coming around…just a little angry with him. Then she'd asked him to kiss her with an expression so completely different than the one she had worn just a few minutes before when he'd held her wrist, or when he'd licked her hand. He still didn't know why he'd done that, now, when time was so important. He wasn't going to repeat that mistake, but she, it seems, had other ideas. He was already aroused from seeing her holding his weapon, so when she pulled him down on top of her and began kissing him, arching and squirming beneath him while running her hands through his hair, how could he _not_ answer her? She was so wild and willing and so very, very innocent. She was new to almost every touch and technique. But she was eager to learn, and he could teach her. If he was to be the one to protect her, he might as well be the one to corrupt her too.

Illumi was no innocent. None of the Zaoldyeck brothers were. They had been trained to use all of their bodies and that was just one more part that could be used to bring pleasure or pain. He knew what he wanted to bring Lucia VerHoffen. Except she did seem to be in some kind of distress now, because…

He had forgotten how short the time was that ordinary people could hold their breath. He broke the lip lock and sat back on his heels; her arms around his neck, she was pulled up with him, coughing and sputtering. He rubbed his hands up and down her back as her breathing began to even out and return to normal.

"Il…_huff_…lu…_huff_…mi?"

"Yes."

"Illumi… _huff…huff_. It's really you…_huff_… Illumi."

"Yes, it is really I."

At which point she slapped him right across the face.


	14. Reality Illumi

14. **Reality Illumi**

He had been struck completely unawares. It knocked him slightly to the side and he released her, raising his hand reflexively to his face. It certainly wasn't strong enough to hurt, but why had she done it? She was still sitting on the floor, leaning away from him, aura incandescent with anger and…fear? Well he _had_ almost asphyxiated her. She must have thought he had done so deliberately.

"I'm sorry. I didn't remember."

"You didn't remember? Didn't remember _what_? Your pride? Your sense of decency?"

What did she mean by that? "I forgot how much longer we Zaoldyecks can hold our breath than other people."

"How long you can hold your _breath_? Well as far as I'm concerned, you can hold your breath until your face turns blue, you…you…molester!"

Now he didn't understand at all. "I don't understand."

"Molester…one who molests. Like you were doing to me just now!"

"I was doing what you asked me to do." He was starting to get a bad feeling about this.

"How Can You Say That?" She stood up. She was shouting, "You try to _intimidate_ me! You scare me half to _death_! I pass out, and when I come to, you are on top of me like some kind of _Boa Constrictor_!"

A very bad feeling. He stood as well. "That wasn't what happened."

"The _Hell_ it wasn't. Get Out! Get out before I call the guards!"

There was plenty of color in her face now. Although the room was becoming quite dark, he could see her face was almost livid. So much indignation directed at him, completely undeserved. "I'm not leaving until I discuss with you the reason why I came here. Your life may be in danger. You need a bodyguard. I am available. Hire me." He couldn't wait any longer.

"I'm not discussing _anything_ with you! I don't want you anywhere near my body. What kind of a man takes advantage of an unconscious woman like that?"

He was getting angry now. "You were not unconscious." But when he got angry, he became calmer, and his voice got softer.

"Of course I was unconscious, I don't remember a thing!" She, on the other hand, was still yelling.

"If that were true, then I would think you would want to shut up and find out what happened."

"You can't talk to me like that!"

"You told me to kiss you."

"In your dreams!"

Actually, that was true. She had done that in some of his dreams. "You grabbed me and pulled me down."

"Ack! I don't want to hear any more! Couldn't you see I wasn't myself? Maybe I thought you were someone else!"

"You called me by my name."

"I thought you were some_thing_ ELSE! A fantasy, a dream…"

That was a surprise. She _fantasized_ about him? But making this admission appeared to make her angrier than ever, and she continued.

"Get out of here. I don't want to talk to you. You're not a man; you're a _monster_. A murderer and a coward! Taking advantage of a groggy woman is probably the only way a _Zaoldyeck_ would EVER get a _normal_ woman!"

That was it. He hit her with _Nen_. Her angry face was now frozen in a rictus of terror. What was he doing? Why had he come here at a foolish personal risk? This was pointless. This plan had been flawed, poorly crafted. And he had executed it badly. It wasn't going to work. Not only would she not contract with him as a bodyguard, she would never want to see him again. He would return to Kukuru Mountain and in a day or two there could be an assignment for him. So although she would never see him again, there was every chance he would see her. And then the woman he had just held in his arms would die at his hand.

He released her from his aura and she crumpled to the floor, weeping, hiding her face in her hands. He had failed. Once again he had that hated feeling that came on those rare but terrible occasions when he had not been quick enough, or clever enough, or strong enough and something had gone wrong and he was to blame. He sighed and crouched down beside her. "Lucia, I'm leaving now. I'm sorry the man didn't measure up to the fantasy."

Her arms shot out and went around his neck as she buried her face in his chest, the top of her head under his chin. She continued to sob into him and he gingerly put his hands on her back.

"Illumi?"

"Do you mean me, or someone else?"

She snorted a laugh and lifted a tear-stained face to look at him, "You. I don't want Fantasy Illumi anymore."

So now he was even unworthy in her dreams.

Then she kissed him softly. It tasted salty from her tears. "The shadow pales when compared with the real thing." She lowered her forehead to rest on his shoulder. "Illumi, will you be my bodyguard?" And with that, she fell fast asleep.


	15. It’s Personal

15. **It's Personal**

He had never felt before how slowly the airship traveled. He knew that was because he had always been writing a report. He didn't have time to waste on recreational travel. This trip hadn't been recreational in nature either. If he were to classify it, he would describe it as a rescue mission. A strange sort of sortie for one such as him, but he couldn't think of any other, more accurate description. It certainly wasn't back-up, because, on her own, she would be completely defenseless.

He was at the door before it landed, then sprinted the short distance of ground to the house. Zeno passed him on the main staircase as he was going up to his room.

"Job?"

"Yes, a Personal."

"Um, well get on with it."

He went into his room and snatched his appointment book from the top of his desk. He wrote in the new job: Bodyguard, Personal; listing the date for completion as: indeterminate, not typical but occasionally the case with this type of assignment; and on the client line he boldly wrote: VerHoffen, Lucia. He put it back on the top of his desk. His room was so powerfully infused with his _Nen_ that no one but Silva or Zeno could enter uninvited, and they knew all they had to do was ask, so he no longer used the hidden compartment underneath the desk. But now he bent down and reached under and unlatched it. Pulling it open he saw several small notebooks filled with his precise hand, but he pushed these aside in search of his objective.

There they were, halfway to the bottom, flattened and with the nap slightly squashed in places, her rose suede slippers. Several times after he had obtained them through distracted oversight, he had taken them from this compartment to hold and touch them; more often early on, but even as late as a couple of months before Killu had left. It had made him feel uneasy to be doing something that seemed so like Milluki, but somehow, even though he doubted she had been trained in any way, the shoes had held some of her aura. Mostly fear, which would have been expected given the situation she had been in when they had last been in contact with her skin, but still, it was something of her. The only thing he had of her. He could feel nothing from them now.

Now, when it was an entire decade later… and he was engaged in rescuing her again. He smiled wryly, wondering at the twisted sense of humor possessed by a fate that would cast him in the role of her Knight Champion. For the first time since the start of this entanglement he asked himself, what was she to him? Was she also just a fantasy or a dream? The real woman certainly was no ideal Lady Fair. Could she posses some natural form of _Specialization_, combining attraction and irritation, playfulness, arrogance, and helplessness, into some siren call he felt compelled to answer?

The shoes were tossed back inside and he closed the compartment. It was a waste of time and effort to think about things he didn't have enough facts to answer. Not when he could be busy gathering more facts right now. He went back downstairs and into the library to check the main schedule. He would have to list his new assignment. And it was also his responsibility to check and make sure he didn't have any scheduling conflicts and to notify Silva or Zeno if he did. He wanted to look at it anyway, to see if there were any new listings.

Briskly, he walked past the rows of shelves containing completed mission reports. These, Illumi believed, were the true wealth and strength of the Zaoldyeck Family. No amount of training, skill, genetics, talent, or luck, could compare with these volumes stretching back through the generations, containing within their carefully noted records, the experience, knowledge and insights of his forefathers.

He wondered why he had told Zeno it was a Personal. He could have just as easily identified it as a Political. Personals were often the most unpleasant jobs: brothers destroying brothers, husbands punishing wives, mistresses removing rivals (although he usually categorized those as Commercial); with the client often requesting special add-ons to the circumstances of the job that were distasteful, even for the hardened Zaoldyecks, to perform. But for that very reason, they were often the most lucrative, and so Illumi thought he might have said that as an excuse why he wouldn't want to give it up or trade it for a different assignment. It was already done, in any case.

Reaching the desk with the current Schedule book on it he opened it to the last listing. Yes, as expected, there was a new assignment. But the target wasn't the name he had feared, and it wasn't for him. Still, it was close enough that it was certainly connected, and he was curious what Lucia would think after it occurred. And speaking of his mercurial employer, he'd better get back and make a thorough inventory of the defensive strengths and weaknesses of her surroundings before he met with her again. He wondered if she would have any more surprises up her sleeve. Her last one, now cleaned, was safely stuck back in his vest. Adding his new job he closed the book, turned, and headed outside, back to the airship hangar.


	16. Many Difficult Pieces

16. **Many Difficult Pieces**

Sunlight striking her face and the tinkling of a breakfast tray pulled Lucia drowsily from the arms of Morpheus. She awoke to see the back of the departing maid as she was closing the door behind her. Reaching over, she quickly grabbed the folded newspaper from under the edge of the plate. Friday! She had slept all through an entire day and now she would have to hurry if she was going to get the answers she needed before the weekend. One of the answers was in her hand however. The front page contained an interview about the assassination with Minister of the Interior VerHoffen, conducted at the Governor's Mansion in Vrijland, where he was helping direct the return of order from the recent riots. So Father _was_ in the Eastern Provinces and he was all right, at least for the time being. She hadn't seen him since Monday, and was starting to get worried that something had happened to him. Not knowing the reason behind Dewalt's offing was making her very jumpy. If the goal was to destabilize Padokia, you couldn't go far wrong by removing both Dewalt _and_ VerHoffen.

She gobbled her Danish and coffee and threw on a robe. There were some mysteries right here in this house that needed answering. Overtaking the maid on the stairs, she began to grill her about that odd set up in the solarium. Yes, Minister VerHoffen had selected the champagne, no, he hadn't seen the flowers, but had requested a large display, and he had also directed that caviar be put out on ice, and, although he hadn't specified an exact number, that _several_ glasses be put on an adjacent table, and he had specified the solarium as the location. The note had been delivered Tuesday afternoon by courier with the directive that it be placed on the table in front of the display. Lucia already knew the writing was in her father's hand. So the mystery remained.

Father's notes were always long treatises on whatever important Padokian issue was at hand. If it had been a four-page description of Vrijland's riots it wouldn't have puzzled her. And that line about being proud and _happy. _Over what…her stabbing him in the political back? She knew he had resigned himself to accepting her own choices, but happy? It had the air of insincerity. Not that her father, an accomplished politician, wasn't capable of that, but why…to make her feel good? Did he think she was such a weakling?

The phone rang in her room and she went back upstairs to answer it. Katrina Petersen was calling her, would she care to receive the call? Perfect timing. Let's see what her best friend and personal secretary knew.

Not much. Father hadn't talked to her. Dewalt hadn't tried to make an appointment before his demise. Oh, and the police were wondering when it would be convenient to drop by. They had a few more questions. Great! She most likely had their murderer currently in her employ. And the press all wanted interviews.

Then Katrina added, "Oh, and that past Wednesday appointment you had with the Examiner for the pictorial, _Sundays at Home_, well they apologized for the no-show. Their lead photographer was in a car accident. I bet the editor burst a blood vessel when he learned his paper could have interviewed you the day after the story of the year!" She laughed, and then stopped abruptly as if she suddenly remembered the nature of the situation. "Lucy, are you OK? I can't imagine what it must have been like having a dead man in your arms!"

Not nearly as unsettling as holding the killer, Lucia thought. "Oh I'm fine Trina. Just a little tired." And confused as hell. Wait, what had Trina said? "An appointment with the Examiner? I don't remember that. Did they make it with you?"

"No. I thought they made it with you, and you had been too busy to let me know. When they called I pulled up your schedule and there it was, big as life."

"Does it say _when_ it was made?"

"Nope. Want me to reschedule?"

"No, but could you ask if they remember when they made that appointment, and who it was made with? Then just lump them in with the rest of the press for now. Tell them all I'm only interested in a conference. I'd like to keep some control and get it all over with at once."

"Will do. You're sure you're OK? Want me to come over? I can close the office."

The police and the press must be driving Trina crazy. "No. Thanks for holding down the fort. I owe you."

At that Katrina laughed again, "Yeah, you do! Take care. Bye."

Her questions were gaining her questions. Answers appeared to be in short supply. She had one more call she wanted to make before continuing her investigation inside the house, The Ministry of the Interior Office. Marta, the receptionist, seemed genuinely upset for her, but then she'd known everyone in this bureau for as long as she'd been alive. Things changed very slowly, if at all. That was the beauty of Padokian politics. She asked for the number where her Father was staying and called it immediately. Karl answered.

Karl was Katrina's brother and her father's right-hand man. He was a man for whom the word "ambition" was spelled in All Caps. He had pursued her relentlessly for years, even though Lucia had made it clear that he was nothing more to her than a safe, convenient escort to political events and parties. He had gotten worse after she broke off with Michael, but his calculated ardor had recently seemed to cool, now that she was working with Opposition candidates. Sometimes she wondered if that wasn't part of why she did it.

"Lucy, Lucy, we were all so worried about you!" Trina could call her Lucy. She liked Karl to call her Miss VerHoffen. "The Minister was frantic." Now that was just Karl's hyperbole. Her father was _never_ frantic, sometimes annoyed, on rare occasions furious, but never frantic.

Maybe she could get something. "Karl, what's going on there? Did the situation change? Because Father told me on Monday he'd be with me Tuesday night," she said in her best "little girl" whine.

"Well, the Governor sent him that letter…(like her father didn't receive dozens of those every week) O Lucy, here is the Minister now (as if he hadn't been trying to contact him since she called)." She idly wondered if he had got him there, or if it was a patch through to his cell.

"Lucia?" slightly scratchy, probably cell. "You are all right."

It was such a relief to hear his voice; tears began to form in her eyes. She _was_ a weakling. But if a whole country could lean on one man, could she be faulted for wanting support from him too? And it was just so like him to state how she was, rather than to ask her.

"I got your note… with the flowers." Say something to explain, please Father.

"I called your Great Aunt Mildred. She said she'd come down with some friends to be with you Tuesday in my stead. I sent Voorhees to take care of things after I heard about Dewalt. I don't know when I'll be back, but I spoke to General Barhydt about extra security. You will be fine until I return. I have to go now, Lucia."

"Good bye, Fa-", but the connection had already been ended, "-ther"

The gears of her mind were starting to make clicking noises but she didn't have time for any deep thinking now. She had to gather as many pieces of the puzzle as possible before she tried to put them together. And she had plenty of other places to look through for them before she met up again with her favorite piece.


	17. The Shadow Knows

17. **The Shadow Knows**

Back in the Capital, he briefly stopped at her father's house. Its defense was, for the most part, unchanged. Some additional soldiers had been added. They would be useless, of course, against what they were likely to face, but it was nice to see some effort had been made. Lucia was asleep, hopefully for a long time, and that was for the best, too. She had need of rest, and he had plenty to do while he could still leave her relatively unguarded. The new job he had seen in the Schedule had been listed to be completed on Friday, and it was doubtful any attempt would be made on her until that one was finished.

It was now well after midnight on Thursday morning, a perfect time for some second-story work at the Ministry of the Interior. Then he could spend the day tailing various individuals of interest and reacquainting himself with the current _bêtes noires _of Padokia's political world. By Friday things should be much clearer and he should be able to devise a workable plan or two. He also would, of course, add into the mix what he could get from his client.

Illumi had been thinking about her, all the way back to the Capital. He had come to a conclusion of sorts about why he was so eager to seek out and take on this risky assignment. Leaving aside the slight possibility that he was looking to test himself head to head against the best in his field, an idea he had already dismissed, as it was his style to pit strength against weakness and to avoid direct confrontation whenever possible (and since he knew his own abilities and those of his probable opponent down to the smallest detail, he could run simulated fights in his mind any time he wished, which he would invariably lose); he was left with the fact that he wanted to protect her. Something about her attracted and called to him. And Illumi thought he knew what it was.

There were two kinds of people living in the world, Illumi believed. No, not Zaoldyeck and others, because these two types existed both on and off Kukuru Mountain, but rather: those that went ahead with the light, and those that followed behind them in the shadows. These light bearers were few in number, but although they didn't think about them, or really even know or care they were there, each of them gave off enough radiance for many, many shadow dwellers.

Killua was one. That was why Illumi had always known he would be the Zaoldyeck heir. How could it not be Killu, who shone and sparkled like a diamond as he boldly, if foolishly, strode out to make his own path in life? And Hisoka, the fantastical magician; Illumi had sought just to stand nearby and bask in the heat and brilliance of that incandescent character. Oh yes, Illumi knew he was drawn to these impetuous, uncaring, incautious individuals.

Not that Illumi had any illusions about which kind of person he was. He wasn't even certain he would want to be one of them if he could. It would mean giving up too much. It was too risky. He was content to support them from the shadows as best he could, to save them from themselves. As Illumi had done to try to protect Killua, training him to consider his safety when facing an adversary, and also physically implanting in his brain a governor on his impetuousness, even as Illumi had lied to him (for his own good of course), telling him he contained only darkness. Hisoka was so strong; he didn't need anybody's help, although Illumi was gratified to have been asked, once. But Lucia…

She was one of them; he knew that. He had observed those gathered around her at that Victory party, how they hung on to her. And if he thought back, he remembered how her speaking voice had been impossible for him to ignore, and how she was virtually the only non-fictional girl he had ever heard Milluki mention. A radiant personality, as he had described Gon to Killua, without conscious effort on her part, she acquired followers and likely didn't even concern herself with them. But unlike the others of her kind that Illumi had known, Lucia was without any defense against what she would be facing. Killua had his training, Hisoka had his strength, but all Lucia had between herself and certain destruction was Illumi, if he chose to put himself there.

And Illumi had decided he would. He would prevent that light from being extinguished. Everyone knows, without light, shadows can't even exist.


	18. The Immovable Object

18. **The Immovable Object**

Lying on her side in front of the fireplace in her father's study, Lucia was afforded an excellent view of the source of her frustration. Maybe I should have called him "The Clam", she groused. He was seated at her father's desk going through his correspondence, wearing a deep red pants and vest outfit that would have looked ridiculous on anybody else, but made him look rather like Romeo, she thought. Except that Juliet was being completely ignored.

She herself had taken great pains with her appearance, putting on "The Dress". The one Katrina bought her after she broke up with Michael, when she had been so depressed and crying that she would never have another boyfriend. It was a sheath made of aquamarine silk, beautifully fitted, and demure… except that it had a slit on its left side extending up to her hipbone. Lucia had only worn it once before, at the installation party for the new ambassador to Kakin, and she knew it had power because she hadn't even made it around the room before she was swamped with attention.

"Illumi," she pouted.

"Hmm." He was right next to her, because the desk had been placed with its back to the fireplace, so anyone entering would see the Minister backlit from the firelight.

She rolled over onto her stomach lifting up her feet and crossing them at the ankles. She had already kicked off her shoes. "You won't find his phone journal there." She looked up at him, with her head resting on her right hand.

"No?" At least he was looking at her now.

"No. It's over here." She reached under the rug where she had hidden it, holding it beneath her chin.

"I understand. I don't need it yet." He returned his attention to the papers on the desk.

This cold shoulder was driving her crazy! He was probably mad at her. She owed him an apology for the day before yesterday. It wasn't entirely true that she didn't remember _anything_ about what happened. It was just kind of jumbled together, reality with past dreams that she'd had, so she wasn't sure what was real and what wasn't, until the adrenaline rush from lack of air brought her to full awareness. Everything he said had the embarrassing ring of truth to it, but he had been so calm and self-assured. And after he got her to admit that mortifying part about how she had thought him to be a fantasy…she had wanted to get him. But how do you get someone you don't know anything about? And despite having replayed in her mind, over and over for years, the scattered moments she had spent in his presence, there was only one thing she knew he truly held important. She had heard it those many years ago in his defense of Mike on Kukuru Mountain, and she had heard it again from him, just then, as she was recovering from his kiss.

So she hit him… right in the Zaoldyecks. And she had connected too, judging by his return blow of _Nen_. Never had she felt such terror and helplessness. Even so, when he released her from his aura, she cried not from fear of that, but because he had actually come to see her, after ten long years, and now she had foolishly driven him away. She didn't hear what he said to her when he crouched down. But as soon as he was within reach she grabbed him. She had it in her head that she would just hold onto him so he couldn't get away, ridiculous considering his strength, but then she remembered what he had said about her needing a bodyguard, and there was her answer.

Except he wouldn't tell her why, or anything else she wanted to know either.

She walked on her knees over to his chair and looked up at him. "Illumi, you don't have to look through those papers. I already have."

"You don't know what I'm looking for." He studiously avoided looking at her.

"The reason I don't know is because you won't tell me." She looked down at his lap and began to draw little designs and circles on his leg with her finger, just as she had been doing on the rug.

Nothing. "Why do I need a bodyguard, Illumi?"

"Your life may be in danger."

An answer, but one he had given before. "What makes you _think_ that, Illumi? And this house is surrounded with armed guards. Why do I need _you_, Illumi?"

Silence.

"That was your pin thing, wasn't it? You _did_ kill Chairman Dewalt, didn't you? Who asked you to do it, Illumi? Are you supposed to kill anybody _else_?" Then a sudden awful thought, her hand stopped its idle motions and she looked up at his face again. Her voice softened almost to a whisper, "Illumi, can you…would you…kill someone you were guarding?"

At last he turned his head to look at her and tonelessly replied, "No. You can't guard someone and kill them at the same time."


	19. The Irresistible Force

19. **The Irresistible Force**

Someone should have taught her that most coercive techniques worked best when used subtly. Even if he didn't already know from that fracas the evening before last, that Lucia had as much experience with sex and seduction as a Luddite, Neo-Green Lifer had with computers and cell phones, her blatantly revealing attire, decorously contradicted by the way she kept putting her hand at her hip to hold it together, was possibly the most obvious ruse he had ever had attempted on him. Plainly her position as the daughter of the most powerful political figure in the country, coupled with her striking if angular good looks, and the fact that she was younger by at least two decades than most of the men with and for whom she worked, meant she had not needed to hone her skills much in this area. He had barely suppressed a laugh when he had seen her in the Minister's study after he had completed that night's outdoor survey.

Apparently the only useful information she had gleaned from their previous meeting was that he found her physically attractive, and she was determined to use this fact to pry more information from him. This was not a good tactic to use on him, even if it had not been so clumsily executed. If the most important thing before a job was research and preparation, the most crucial element during it was focus. And what she was proposing was something anathema to maintaining proper focus. It was a distraction--something to be avoided at all costs, now that she was his client and her safety was his responsibility, and certainly not something to be sought after, and obtained through the exchange of information.

Not that he had much on that account in any case. The Ministry's office memos had been strangely quiet regarding the Groesbeck campaign, although he had found plenty of correspondence regarding the other, losing Opposition candidates from that same election. Lucia's name was glaringly conspicuous by its absence, appearing only on one crumpled post-it note (retrieved from under a desk), which looked as if it had been pulled off a large diagram showing the locations of districts up for the next round of elections.

He had steadfastly stonewalled her for more than an hour, until she had given up her ill-suited role as femme fatale and reverted to the clearly more accustomed one of spoiled brat. At least she had become quieter, even though it was now apparent that she had deliberately concealed items pertinent to the case in order to trade with him. If this continued he was going to have to impress upon her the danger she was in, as well as how seriously he took his jobs, and the consequences of baiting him.

Now she was kneeling beside his chair, reiterating the same questions she had peppered him with before, but adding the new, and much more effective distraction of her fingers, lightly brushing against the top of his thigh. It was becoming difficult to continue comparing names and dates on the correspondence with those he had jotted down in his notebook at the Ministry Office the previous day. He was going to have to make her stop.

And then she did. And she asked the question he had been expecting her to ask, but not in the way he had expected her to ask it. It was still the dreaded question, and she knew it was too. But it was phrased in such a manner that he thought he might be able to answer her, almost like a regular question a client might ask before securing his services. She wasn't happy with his answer.

"You can't guard someone and kill them at the same time," a tiny whisper, her face suddenly bloodless, she fell backwards onto her hands and crawled away from him, never taking her eyes from his face. "You can't guard someone and kill them at the _same time,_" louder, with the beginnings of a panicked edge to her voice. "You _can't_…at the same time…" She had reached the door of the room and pulled herself upright with her hands on the doorframe. Eyes wide, they bored into his, searching for something. Not finding it, she turned and bolted down the hall.

Out of the chair, he was ahead of her before she reached the end of the hall. She crashed into him at her full speed and he grabbed her shoulders with his hands to prevent her from falling. An excoriating, terrified scream tore from her throat. Illumi was usually spared such screams. Preferring to strike from a distance, he had usually dispatched his targets before they were even aware of a threat. He had, however, occasionally employed other methods, and as a child had been trained in all forms of killing, and so he recognized the unmistakable scream of someone in fear of her life. She thought he was going to kill her. Ironic, considering that it had been his own wish to avoid that very thing that had driven him to seek her employ. He needed to calm her down, to reassure her.

"Lucia, Lucia, stop. Stop now," he cooed softly, holding her tightly to himself with his right arm around her waist, while he stroked and smoothed her hair with his left hand. She stiffened against him and struggled to pull away, but he held her fast, softly shushing. He had had a hand in training all his younger brothers and he knew he was good at this part, the comforting after the pain. The servants had been roused and were coming, and soon after the guards would follow, so Illumi kept his left arm around her shoulders and lowered his right arm, reaching around to slide it under her knees and pick her up. He ran down the hall and out the back of the house through the solarium. He jumped to scale her garden wall and didn't stop running until he had reached a small Zaoldyeck safe house just outside the capital.

He didn't enter the house proper, but went around to the back, to a small garden with a large two-person swing. The autumn moon was bright overhead but provided no warmth, and it was chilly outside as he sat down holding her in his lap. He thought she would be warm enough as long as he held her. She had stopped struggling when he picked her up and now she was just softly crying against him.

"When?" she said weakly, not bothering to lift her face from his chest.

"When what, Lucia?"

Testily now, "When _can_ you kill me? A week from now? A month?"

He sighed. "I'm not here to kill you. I'm here to protect you. You have to trust me."

At that she did look up, with a little anger in her eyes, Illumi thought it suited her better than the fear. "That's not very easy when you won't trust me."


	20. What Was That Question?

20.** What Was That Question? **

How _could_ he ask that of her, after telling her nothing and then answering that question _that_ way? An entire life spent around politicians had made Lucia fully aware of the fact that words could be used to obfuscate as well as illuminate, and often did both simultaneously. She phrased her question as carefully as she could. But after she got over her initial surprise at having him actually _answer_ a question, when she'd deciphered the meaning of the way he had worded his reply, the conclusion reached was so horrible, it could only be the truth. Why else would he have said that? Why else would he have sought her out? A clear picture formed at once in her mind, shattering the romantic fantasy, and leaving a much more plausible, darker reality in its place.

After she had returned from that last trip to Kukuru Mountain, most of her dreams had been of Illumi, but there had been other dreams too, nightmares of Mike. Lucia would be alone, running down the forest path in absolute darkness, but with the sound of Mike's breathing right behind her, letting her know she would never get away, that any moment he would catch her. And when Illumi's hands closed on her shoulders, she knew she had been caught. She had not screamed that night on the mountain, and she'd never screamed in her dreams either. But now it was as if all the terror within had reached critical mass, and her body could no longer hold it. She was caught, but before she was rended, she would voice her anguish in one last cry.

Suddenly it was like when you are asleep, and you are abruptly moved from one dreamscape to another. She found herself carried in Illumi's arms, the warmth of his hand on her leg and the comforting beat of his heart next to her ear. Nothing could catch her in Illumi's arms, because he could run faster than anything else. He could probably outrun Death itself.

Reality came back to her however, when they reached whatever his destination was, a small cottage on the outskirts of the city. It was completely dark, but Illumi made no move to go inside anyway, heading straight to a garden swing at the back of it, where he sat, with her across his lap, one arm still supporting her back the other now around her ribcage in front, holding her snugly against him. Mockingly, beautiful moonlight silvered their surroundings just as on that magical night so long ago. Lucia buried her face in him, pausing, and holding onto, for just one last time, that enchanted dream of the past.

She hoped he would tell her when. She knew he would make it quick.

And then…he had denied it, and asked for her trust. _Her_ trust! After nearly destroying her with doubt by his silence, by his refusal to tell her anything except this one equivocating response.

"It's not that I don't trust you," he looked away from her, staring straight ahead. "Those answers you want, they're not mine to give. That information doesn't belong to me." Left unsaid, but still hanging in the air, and clearly heard by her, 'It belongs to the Zaoldyecks.'

He continued; sounding ever so slightly agitated, "You know that I came to you asking for you to hire me. I have told you we cannot kill someone we are guarding…"

Startled by the shock of a sudden epiphany, she gasped, and he turned his head to look down at her. He was looking at her with that same intensity he had on Kukuru Mountain, and with those same dark, impenetrable eyes. She now knew she wouldn't see her answer in them, not because it wasn't there, but because they were virtually fathomless, and it would take more than a lifetime to explore their recondite depths. His answer hadn't meant that he had come to kill her. No. He had come down from the Mountain to _save_ her, to prevent her death at anyone's hands… even his own.

"You have to trust me, Lucia. But I won't betray the confidences of others. What do you want me to do?"

That was one of those trick questions, like the time he had asked her how she felt on Kukuru Mountain, after she had awakened to see him above her. What did she want him to do? She wanted him to kiss her! Yes, but that wasn't it. She wanted him to make love to her. Yes. Oh, yes. But that wasn't it either. She wanted him to spend the rest of his life with her; then, after death, to come back from the Underworld to find her and bring her back with him, so that they could be together forever and ever in an afterlife where time has no meaning. _Yes!_ That was it.

"I trust you, Illumi." And she pulled his head down to her, and kissed him.


	21. A Vow to Oneself

21. **A Vow to Oneself**

After she had declared her intention to trust in him, they had continued to sit in that garden and talk for hours. She had wanted to know whatever she could of him that he was willing to tell her. That had meant including stories from his childhood, even embarrassing ones, such as the time when he was fourteen and had been showing Killu how to open the Gates of Verification just after a frost, and had slipped on the icy forecourt, and wound up flat on his face, sending the toddler into a giggling fit. Or what happened the first time his mother had asked him to give Mike a bath. Lucia had laughed and so had he. And more seriously, he had told her about his interest in the nervous system and what happened when different pathways were interrupted. How he hoped for his experiments in this to be his addition to his family's store of knowledge. She had seemed genuinely interested.

And she had told him about herself, her love-hate relationship with Padokian politics, her desire to move out from under the large shadow cast by her father. She shared stories from her past too, like the time she had used the pretty paper of a non-aggression treaty with the Republic of East Goruto to make paper dolls (Kalluto would like that one). Or how she used to pick from ladies that she knew and try to imagine what it would be like if they had been her mother. Then she'd asked,

"Why didn't you ever come to see me? I couldn't go back to your home, but you knew where I was all this time."

He had already asked himself that question. Firstly, Illumi had never gone anywhere in his life without a specific assigned purpose, and secondly, his presence usually made people uneasy, even if (or perhaps especially when) they had sought him out to avail themselves of his services. It was so completely alien to his experience…someone wanting to just see him. After all, to his knowledge, it had never happened before. "I didn't know you wanted to see me."

Lucia had looked stricken at that, fixing him with her pellucid eyes, "Oh Illumi! I missed you so much!" Then she looked down at her lap, as if embarrassed by her outburst, and continued, "And it wasn't just you I missed. Your mother was one of the few people I remember from my childhood who seemed to care about me." Then, more dejected, "Though maybe I was mistaken about that. Maybe she didn't like me at all."

"She liked you. When your father came back without you, she asked after you. And she told my father afterward that she was disappointed not to see you."

"Really?" she brightened, "sometimes it's hard for me to tell. People in politics are very good at faking that kind of thing, and I've been surrounded by those people my whole life. I'm glad to know I didn't remember it wrong." There was a sudden hopeful earnestness in her voice, "When all this is over, can I go back again to Kukuru Mountain?"

He answered without hesitation, "Yes."

By then it was very late, and even in the confines of his arms she was getting cold. So he carried her back to her house, dropping her off a little way from the gatehouse as she had requested, so she could explain to the guards on duty why they had heard her scream and then not been able to find her. Something about old school friends and a prank to cheer her up, it sounded ridiculous but she'd seemed fairly sure she could sell it to them. After looking down at her shoeless feet, she had laughed and said, "Well I can tell whom I've been out with!" Then she kissed him goodnight and was gone.

And as Illumi watched her run away from him toward her home, he made a vow to himself that she wasn't going to die. Whatever it took, so long as he lived, he would protect her.

Then he returned to the safe house. It was dangerous to leave Lucia now, but he had to risk it to contact the person inside. He'd been intending to meet up there, after seeing that job in the Schedule. Typically this assassin would go to that house after an in-town job, and when he'd arrived with Lucia he knew he'd been right. And it wasn't too long to wait for his return after he dropped her off back home. He had formulated a workable plan.

Illumi could work alone, but he really preferred to work jobs as leader of a team. It meant more chances to cover every angle if the targets or opponents were numerous, or if they were particularly clever or skilled, and that's just what he was planning to do now. Because it was looking like he was going to need all the help he could get, if he was going to go up against whom he thought he would have to, to save her life.

He was almost certain now he knew who was behind this. And it meant her life was in terrible danger.


	22. A Token from a Distraction

22. **A Token from a Distraction**

Once again, drapes being pulled wide and cutlery jostling plates brought Lucia to wakefulness. But this time, it wasn't Morpheus's arms she was pulled from, but rather, a new and improved Fantasy Illumi. Yes, she had said she was giving him up, but he, apparently, had other ideas. And she really couldn't complain. As she smiled and languorously stretched, sitting up, she thought this day had better be pretty darn good to make up for that interruption.

It was looking up already, as the departure of the maid through the door signaled the arrival of a figure at her balcony window. 'Bluebird, bluebird, through my window', she hummed. Except he wasn't really a bluebird, more of a blackbird actually, especially dressed, as he was, almost entirely in dark gray. As he came into her room the sun shone in the highlights of his hair, but as glorious a sight as that was, Lucia couldn't help but notice that it also glinted off small round metal balls scattered across his vest. To an ordinary observer they might appear as an unusual decoration or embellishment, but having actually held one, after seeing it used in action, she immediately recognized them for what they were. She shuddered involuntarily. He had come in his professional attire.

"Good Morning, Illumi. Have you had breakfast yet?" Not that she wasn't glad to see him, but she hoped he'd tell her why he was here.

"Um, yeah."

Very forthcoming. Oh well, she wasn't going to be able to figure it out without coffee anyway. "Well I haven't, so if you'll excuse me…Oh!" Now she knew why he had come. When she picked up her coffee cup, there, on the now uncovered front page of Saturday's newspaper, Elizabeth Groesbeck's round face, swollen even more from crying, and the headline: "Senator Groesbeck Found Dead in his Sleep", and below in smaller print: "Autopsy Pending". She shot him a pointed look, but he looked taken aback at that.

"I guess we were together most of last night." She was now pacing back and forth, nibbling on some toast. "And if it had been those 'pin things' of yours, the cause of death would be pretty obvious." She stopped in front of him, holding the toast's crust in front like a pointer. "But the fact that you're here means it couldn't have been a natural death!" she crowed triumphantly.

"Maybe I wanted to see you."

She ran up to him and threw her arms around his neck. They made quite the picture, standing together in the flood of morning sunlight, both tall and slender, he with his raven hair and dark red and charcoal clothes and she with dark gold hair and pure white linen nightdress: a demon prince with an angel inamorata, Pluto and Persephone.

"You won't be seeing me for the next couple of days. I wanted you to know that I'm still on the job."

Her face fell. "Oh."

She moved to turn away, but he stopped her by putting his hands on her waist. "Seeing you might be a distraction."

At that she smiled and laughed at him. "Why Illumi Zaoldyeck, aren't you the sweet talker. That sounds almost like a compliment. I'm going to give you a locket with my picture and have it engraved: From Lucia, your Distraction."

He wasn't smiling. She had to remind herself how seriously he took his work, and after all, right now his job was to protect her. "I'm sorry. I guess I shouldn't tease." But it was so easy and fun, she thought. "Groesbeck's murder, you were expecting it?" Silence. "It fits in with my theory, so it probably fits with yours as well."

"Um."

"Well, if this is goodbye before you go off to defend me, I should give you some token, right?" She scanned her room. She didn't have much in the way of scarves or ribbons. Wait a minute. She ran to her dresser and opened the top drawer. Reaching way to the back, she pulled out a dark pink ribbon, a centimeter wide and about thirty in length. "My mother used to tie my hair back with this. Or so I've been told; I don't really remember. I was two when she died."

"I know."

She started at that, but then realized that, of course, he would have researched her past. "I think it'll do just fine." She walked back to him and lifted his left arm tying it around his wrist. He regarded it noncommittally, but she thought it didn't clash too much with the carmine red sleeves of his clothes.

"You still won't tell me who you suspect." Silence. "If I tell you who I do, will you tell me if it's the same?" Still nothing. "Have you ever heard the expression, 'Two heads are better than one'?"

"I think that might adversely affect your balance."

Lucia laughed, and Illumi almost smiled. "OK. OK. But don't expect me to stop trying. Those who know me know I never give up until I get what I want." She continued more seriously, "Please be careful. And come back to me."

"I'm always careful."

And? And? But if he was going to add anything she'd never know, because at that moment the maid tapped on the door and stuck her head into the room, inquiring if it was all right for the exchange to start putting calls through to her now. She'd turned her head at the sound, and when Lucia looked back the slight movement of the sheer panels by her balcony window was the only indication of his passing. And that could have been mistaken for the wind.

Katrina was on the phone. The Opposition party was still asking for Lucia to work the elections in those key districts. She decided to accept the job. She figured they were owed a break after the hits they'd taken. And she knew she could work the sympathy angle to her advantage. The Press Conference was scheduled for tomorrow afternoon. That should be easier, now that it was old news, she reasoned, replaced by Groesbeck. And her father was due back tomorrow evening. Karl was coming back the day before the Minister, and wanted to see her tonight. Fine, Lucia thought, because she wanted to clear a few things up with him. Everything was coming together now.

She was almost certain now she knew who was behind this. And it meant her life wasn't in any real danger.


	23. On the Job

23. **On the Job**

Illumi sat high in a willow at the rear of her garden. He had just finished making the rounds of the place and knew that there was nothing inimical inside the compound, just as he knew that there was most likely something hostile right outside. He couldn't sense _anything_ outside, and that was a clear sign of something… something hidden. But he wasn't too concerned, because whomever it was appeared to be waiting, and Illumi could wait. He was just insurance against someone seizing an opportunity, stealing a march. He was almost positive nothing big would happen until tomorrow anyway, at the Press Conference.

Groesbeck's murder had been a typical Political removal. Someone inconvenient taken away so that someone more suitable could fill his place. But Dewalt had been a message. And that message had been misread, or misunderstood, or ignored, and now another message was due to be sent. And what better way to deliver it than in a room filled with reporters: Lights, Camera, Boom! They wouldn't get the chance though, Illumi planned to have this chicken plucked and trussed before the early arrivals' credentials were even checked. Once his opponent's client was eliminated the contract would be voided, and the target, Illumi's client, would be safe. He was counting on his partner, but that had never been a problem before, so he wasn't worried, not about that anyway. His mind was troubled with thoughts of an entirely different nature.

What was he doing? A cat may look at a king, but what was a Zaoldyeck doing looking at Padokia's political princess? The other night he had spoken to her as he had never spoken to another; told her things about himself he had never told anyone else. He couldn't keep her out of his head. Instead of leaving a note, he had gone to see her one last time that morning before disappearing into the shadows, because he _had_ to see her. It felt like physical hunger. She had looked a little frightened at first, glancing warily at his vest of pins, although she must have known he needed to be armed to protect her. But when he had said he had wanted to see her… No one had ever looked at him that way before. As if the most precious gift that could be given was a moment of his attention. She had felt so good in his arms that he had held her back when she had tried to turn away.

She was laughing and teasing, and looking for a token to give him, as if he were her hero. And he realized, he wanted that. Even though he was just a useful tool, a highly paid performer, an expertly trained professional permanent solution to uncomfortable exigencies, just this one time he wanted to be the hero. Then she gave him her mother's ribbon.

Was it this tree, he wondered…maybe the one further to the left? He couldn't remember. It had been so long ago, and he had been very young, no more than six or seven… young enough that he could remember still being a little nervous, wanting to make a good impression in front of Grandfather Zeno, who was watching. He wasn't supposed to know that Zeno was there, but Illumi was a smart little kid, and already could sense his presence even at a distance. He needn't have worried, because it went off perfectly. His aim was sure, his pins flew straight and true, and the woman sitting under the tree, idly smoothing the hair of the toddler in her lap, slumped over, not even waking the child, who was fast asleep.

He didn't choose his targets of course. Someone else had wanted her killed and paid for it to be done. Back in those days Illumi wouldn't have known or cared who the client was, performing just for the joy of using his skills and seeking the ever elusive approval of his father. Still, his hands had done the deed; he was responsible. He would never tell her. Zaoldyecks never told others about their jobs. But he wondered, if she knew, would she ever look at him that way again, with that luculent testament from her heart? She'd said she never gave up until she got what she wanted. Would she still want him then?

Someone was driving up to the house. The Minister's top aide, Karl Petersen, age 32, height 181, weight 75. Illumi felt a sudden inexplicable dislike for the man, a resentment…jealousy? This had to stop now. The game was afoot and these kinds of feelings and thoughts were moot if the person contended for was dead. And it was Illumi's job to make sure that didn't happen. And nobody ever accused Illumi of not taking his job seriously.


	24. A Warning

24. **A Warning**

Karl was as punctual as ever. He said he would come by at 8:00, and at 7:55 the phone rang with a call from the gatehouse saying that Mr. Petersen would like to see her. She had him shown into the study. He looked tired and a little guilty. Lucia though he should, after what he had tried to pull on her.

Remaining seated behind the desk, she nodded to a tray with a decanter on a side table. "Why don't you pour yourself a drink, Karl? You look as though you could use it."

"Yeah I could, Lucy," he said with a tight little smile. He made himself a double.

"How was Vrijland?"

"Boring and provincial." Karl smiled wryly.

"But wasn't it a little frightening?" Lucia feigned sincerity, "with the riots and all…"

"Oh, that." Karl sank into the chair positioned facing the desk, putting his drink on an adjacent table. "We're the rescue team; it was nothing we couldn't handle, the Minister and I. You needn't have worried."

He was smugly smiling. Lucia wanted to wipe that lying smile from his face. "How was my Aunt Mildred?"

"Who?"

"My Great Aunt Mildred. You know; the one you called who was supposed to come down and be with me Tuesday." He looked a little confused.

She continued, "Except of course for the fact that she went into the hospital for elective surgery on Monday." Lucia had gotten up from the desk and came around to approach him. "OK, maybe that wasn't you. Maybe I should ask you about the Examiner's Society Editor." Bingo. He blanched and took a gulp from his glass.

"You guys must think I'm stupid not to see through that ridiculous display." Now she let fly, using the unfortunate Karl to vent her frustration. "That prop wasn't meant for Aunt Millie or _anybody_ on Tuesday. That was meant for the _press_ on Wednesday, _after_ Dewalt. To show how unconcerned the Minister was about Groesbeck's reelection. Don't you think it was a bit of overkill to add that Father was 'Happy'?"

"Lucy, I-"

She wanted to finish, "Must've galled you they didn't show. Nice save with that interview in Friday's paper, though, all that 'We must all pull together, Loyalist and Opposition' garbage. Really though, did Father have to run all the way to Vrijland?"

"Lucy, I didn't come here to talk about Dewalt, or Groesbeck for that matter." Karl stood up grimly, to face her. "Can you honestly say they didn't deserve what they got? I came here to talk about you."

That caught her off guard, and she stepped back from him a little.

"I wanted to ask you not to take on those district elections." He appeared to be speaking with absolute earnestness.

"You're too late. I already have. Maybe if Father had told me in the first place how much he wanted Groesbeck out, all of this wouldn't have had to happen!" She knew that sounded childish and truculent, but she was hurt and angry. Why hadn't anyone bothered to talk to her? Why were they trying to fool her with lies? Karl she might expect, but Father?

Karl put his glass down and walked up to her, putting his hands on her shoulders. "You're not a little girl anymore Lucy. You're playing big time now. You can't just stamp your foot or flash a smile and get your way."

She pulled away from his grasp. "Don't patronize me."

At that he sighed, "Well, no one could ever tell you what to do. At least I'll be able to still look my sister in the face."

She didn't know what to make of this new "sincere" Karl, but she knew she really didn't like his implications. That was beneath even him. "Oh, just go Karl. Don't you have some skullduggery you should be doing somewhere?"

He put on his familiar charming dishonest smile then, but his grass green eyes were almost wistful, "Good bye, Lucia."

She knew there was something odd about that response, but it wouldn't be until the next morning when she would realize, that just as he had done when they were younger and he was idealistically beginning his work with her father, when he had been speaking about something he actually believed in, and hadn't been trying to deceive her… he had called her by her real name.


	25. The Show Must Go On

25. **The Show Must Go On**

Sunday was proving to be no day of rest, as the house was whirling in a maelstrom of activity in preparation for the upcoming Press Conference. For security reasons General Barhydt had decided that the Minister's home was the best place to hold it, and now the driveway had temporary concrete barriers, the doors were blocked with metal detectors, and the floors seemed almost alive with undulating coaxial and power cables. They had blown the electricity, _twice_, and now had two huge generator trucks on the front drive. Lucia didn't flatter herself that this was all for her. The press had doubtless gotten the word that the Minister was returning today, and hoped to interview him as well.

But Lucia was going to make them wait, until she had a chance to speak with him herself. She had done a lot of thinking about what Karl had said, and had come to the unwanted, uncomfortable conclusion that he was right. She _was_ acting like a little child, expecting to get away with things that grown-ups couldn't. Even with Illumi, she'd spent two of the five days since he'd come back into her life again bawling into his shirt! Had she had so much more backbone as a teenager? It was past time for her to have a serious adult conversation with her father about their mutual and divergent political goals, and to reach some kind of compromise. No longer was she going to just pretend that they weren't in conflict, and she certainly wouldn't have much of a career if all her successful candidates were going to be dropped like clay pigeons.

Katrina came up to her, holding the final draft of her opening statement. Her face looked drawn and pinched, and Lucia thought she knew why. Karl hadn't shown up at their shared flat.

"You know he's with Father. He must've gone back to him after he saw me."

"Yeah, you're probably right." Katrina smiled, but her eyes were still unconvinced. She was worried. Lucia almost envied Katrina this pain. It was proof of a bond she could never have. She had never had any siblings to care about. Is this what Illumi would feel if one of his brothers was late returning from an assassination?

"Father will be back in a few hours, we'll send the troops out after him if he doesn't show up then." Lucia cast an exaggerated look around the large hall, noting the men stationed at every window and door. "And boy, do we have a lot of troops!"

Katrina laughed a little at that. "You know I was kinda hoping he had spent the night here!" She winked, and turned to leave.

"Ha. Ha." Dream on Trina, Lucia thought. As much as she would like Katrina as a sister, she wasn't willing to pay the price of Karl as a husband.

A dais had been constructed at the end of the large ballroom that occupied virtually the entire second floor of the house. The video cameras would be operated by her own people, and there would be only one feed, so at least she knew she would look good on TV. The members of the press were being screened before they were let up the stairs, so in addition to stopping any potential threat, they could weed out the gadflies and troublemakers as well.

Even though these were highly controlled conditions, Lucia still saw it as a step toward her new professed adulthood. As she moved to a small anteroom, to wait for the start of the conference, she thought of her future, and of whom she wanted to spend it with, Illumi.

For ten years she had dreamed a fantasy of him, but after Friday night, she knew the truth. He was the most wonderful man on the face of the earth. Maybe the most wonderful there had ever been. He wasn't perfect; he was after all, a murderer. But that was because that was what his family's business was, if it had been the circus, he would have been part of a trapeze act, or he could have been an accountant in the family firm, or heaven help us, he could have been, like her, part of a political dynasty.

And if it had been a trapeze act, he would have been the guy hanging upside-down by his legs throughout the act, catching and boosting the star performers; an accounting firm, the guy way in the back pouring over and correcting all the misfiled ledgers; and in politics… He wouldn't have been her father, the man out front, who had the glory, he wouldn't even have been her, someone sought after and courted by important people. No, he would have been Katrina, toiling away night and day, faithfully and skillfully, for someone else, with no personal fame or accolades, completely unknown by most people, and completely indispensable to the workings of the job.

He had sharpened his skills to an almost superhuman level through years of torturous training, and then offered them in service to his superiors, who, at best, ignored him, and he only saw inadequacies in himself whenever he failed to reach some unattainable self imposed level. He had ruthlessly trained his siblings, because it had been asked of him, and because he had known they would need these skills to survive in their field, and had earned for himself alienation from the only companions he could have had as a Zaoldyeck, his brothers. He was the most loyal, selfless and giving person Lucia had ever met, and no one had ever told him. He had no idea.

It would not be easy for her. Lucia knew there were two kinds of people in this world, the givers and the takers. And she knew which one she was. She didn't think she could change her very nature, so she was going to have to be very careful and work hard to keep herself from taking advantage of him too. But it would be worth the effort!

She remembered how awed she had been of his physical beauty ten years ago on Kukuru Mountain. Now she knew that it was nothing compared to his beauty inside. He needed to be told, and she wanted the job. She wanted to look into those impossibly enigmatic eyes of his and tell him so, over and over, until he had no choice but to believe it. Because she was in politics, a field not exactly known for its veracity, this would probably take a long time, maybe a lifetime. That would be just fine with her.

Her mind then returned to less pleasant, more immediate issues, discussing her political ambitions with her father. She experienced a brief moment of uncharacteristic doubt. What if she wasn't worth her father's time to negotiate with? Maybe she only rated Karl. No, that couldn't be right; everyone knew she was the critical factor in Groesbeck's victory, even Dewalt. Childish or not, she was big time! Her eye caught the clock on the wall. On with this show!


	26. The Eyes Have It

26. **The Eyes Have It**

The glare from the camera lights was blindingly brilliant, but this was something she was expecting, something comfortably familiar. Mounting the dais, she saw Karl, standing right next to it. What a shame Katrina was at the other end of the hall. She tried to pick her out and catch her eye, but it was impossible with the lights making the audience appear virtually faceless to her. She reached the microphone and welcomed the members of the press to her home. The entire morning had been spent in conference polishing her statement, and Lucia felt it hit just the right note, sorrow for the loss of such a towering figure, hope for continued bipartisan cooperation for the good of Padokia. And she was going to highlight this by announcing her joining the election teams for those Opposition candidates in the upcoming district elections.

She heard a high-pitched whine growing louder and louder, and the production lights briefly flickered. Oh great, not the electricity again, now! Then she felt an arm circle her waist from behind, pulling her back, away from the podium and off the dais. There was an odd disorienting feeling of falling backwards that was completely overshadowed by the strange sensation of seeing what looked like a giant coruscating ball of lightning, heading straight at her.

She hit the floor still facing up, and so was treated to the sight of a great blast of energy passing less than a meter above her, prickling her skin and making the hairs stand on end, even as it cleanly removed the podium, and blew a hole through the wall to the anteroom beyond.

Karl lay face turned away from her, with his body half on top of her as if to shield her. His quick reaction had saved her life. She hoped he had avoided the blast himself.

"Karl, are you all right?"

He didn't answer, putting both arms around her instead and rolling both of them a couple of meters to the right, even as another blast blew apart the parquet floor where she had landed.

She scrambled to get to her feet, the heels of her pumps slipping on the highly polished wood, but Karl was already ahead of her, placing his right arm around her back under both her armpits and hauling her with him as he dove into the anteroom through the opening made by the first blast. They were thrown even further into that room by the force of the third one, exploding behind them.

Now Lucia could hear the sound of small arms fire, a pitifully small and useless defense against that massive _Hatsu_. She heard the screams, as the panicked attendees tried to get out of the ballroom, the pounding of feet as the ones closest to the doors made for the grand staircase that led to the first floor, even as the rest began to be wedged tighter and tighter against each other at the hall's exits. She could smell the acrid odor of shorted electrical equipment.

Karl didn't lead her toward that terrified multitude, heading instead for the door to the service stairs at the other end of the anteroom. He pushed her in front of him, standing behind her like a human shield. Reaching around her to open the door, he shoved her through and shut it behind them. Lucia started down the stairs, but Karl grabbed her arm to stop her. He was already on the other side of the railing and he lifted her up and over, holding her tightly to his side with one arm as he let go and fell with her straight down the stairwell. She was held high enough that her feet barely touched when they landed, but even so, it was a jarring impact.

They opened the door onto the chaos of the first floor. The throng that had made it down the main stairs was trying to get out through the double front doors, partially blocked by the bulky metal detectors that had been temporarily installed. At the same time, General Barhydt's men were trying to get into the house to reinforce the beleaguered guards inside. A few people, familiar with the layout of the place, were rushing past Karl and Lucia, looking to exit out the back through the garden. But the majority were filling up the entry room and backing up the staircase, a terrible situation for them because the source of this mayhem knew that its quarry had fled, and was now in pursuit of it down these very stairs.

Bodies and parts of bodies were falling over the sides of the staircase, as the pursuer chose the most direct route down, blasting through anything in the way. As these were _Nen_ attacks, most of the victims couldn't even see what hit them and the horrified onlookers saw people and objects blown apart in front of their eyes, right next to them, from no visible cause. And there was no escape from that fatal path.

She wished now she had spent more time studying _Nen_. Karl obviously had. His arm around her waist tingled from his defensive _Ken_. He looked like he had been debating in which direction to flee and now he appeared ready to head to the kitchens. Lucia twisted free and started in the other direction. She didn't think pots and pans could fight this threat, and she didn't think they could escape from it for long even if they made it outside. There was only one room in the house shielded against _Nen_, her father's study.

A few steps from the door, and she felt his hand on her wrist, stopping her and starting to pull her back the other way. She turned to face him. He was rapidly scanning their surroundings, but she managed to catch his narrowed obsidian eyes.

"The study is shielded. Father has it regularly infused by _Nen_ masters. It's our best chance." He didn't look convinced, but the sound of explosions from the entryway had ceased, leaving only wailing and crying, so their time was up. They went inside and closed the door behind them.


	27. Best Laid Plans

27. **Best Laid Plans**

Illumi knew that people considered him cold and unemotional. This was largely a by-product of his years of specialized training that had resulted in absolute, flawless control of all his facial muscles. With his carefully schooled neutral expression and measured reactions, he appeared to the outside world as someone completely unaffected by pleasure or pain, incapable of being angered or outraged, or of finding joy or comfort, in the actions and reactions of others. This never bothered him, in fact he could have been said to encourage it, as it gave him an air of invulnerability, at least where his feelings were concerned. But that didn't mean it was true. Illumi sometimes believed he felt things _more_ strongly than others, and so had devised this method of concealing a potentially crippling weakness.

His fears for his younger brothers' safety, his anger at the many who would dare attack or threaten his family, his hurt at his father's rejection, his self-loathing at his own inadequacies whenever he fell short of his goals, these feelings burned inside like underground coal fires, unreachable and inextinguishable. But his life also brought him some happiness, his acceptance as a useful member of his family, his pride in his brothers' mastery of skills under his tutelage, that brief but heady buzz that came when he knew he had it in his power to kill someone, the monetary rewards that were evidence of his ability -- and something that never failed to fill him with an inner glow, the satisfied feeling when a well-crafted plan of his own devising came together and was executed perfectly.

This was not going to be one of those times. As the clock moved unconcernedly closer and closer to the time of the Press Conference, his transmitter refused to ring. Worse yet, he had discovered that the train he was tracking had arrived far earlier than expected, leaving the very real, and unsettling possibility, that his cohort had missed connecting with the target at all. It was looking more and more like the fates were conspiring to force him into direct confrontation with the one who would be targeting Lucia, a situation unlikely to result in a favorable outcome for their side.

At ten minutes before the Conference, he knew his time was up. He was now all she had as a defense. In order to protect her at all, he would have to be very close to her, and that meant he would have to be disguised. And he knew exactly the person he could counterfeit, the man who had been so injudicious as to attempt to warn her the night before, Karl Petersen. When Illumi had seen him leave, he had known that his were not the only eyes watching. He had followed to the banks of the Dentora River where the car had been abandoned. There, on the chance that he might need them for this very purpose, Illumi had divested him of his clothes, almost as adroitly as the man's assailant had divested him of his heart. And fortunately for Illumi, that had been done so skillfully as to not leave one drop of blood outside the body.

So he donned the dead man's clothes and used that _sui generis_ ability of his to don the man's appearance as well, then positioned himself directly behind where she would be standing. Almost immediately, the door to the small adjoining room opened, and Lucia entered the hall. She wasn't smiling (this was a conference about a man's assassination after all), but her posture was elegant, her movements graceful, her light reflective hair shining bright, her crystalline eyes sparkling, her presence and persona projecting the very embodiment of the beauty and promise of youth. Illumi could sense the crowd was half enthralled by her charisma. He himself was not entirely unaffected, but he was struck more by how very _alive_ she was, and how that condition was not likely to continue, as from the rear of the room, he felt the thrum of the flaring of an all too familiar _Ren_.

He was going to have to get her out of there, now. Flight was the only option. Trying to face off against that opponent would be like trying to extinguish the fires of the sun with a water bucket. It was not going to work. And if he could stay ahead of her attacker long enough, there was always the chance that his partner would arrive. Although no match, even for Illumi, in head on combat, that was more than made up for by resourcefulness and ingenuity. Together, they might be able to come up with something, even working on the fly.

Thankfully, Lucia was easy enough to maneuver out of that shooting gallery of a hall and down to the first floor. But while he was deliberating the best route for their exit, she managed to wriggle free of his hold, and took off through the scattering crowd, down an adjacent hallway. He had an awful feeling he knew where she was headed.


	28. Betrayal and Counter Betrayal

28. **Betrayal and Counter-Betrayal**

Entering the study and closing its thick door caused the noise from the melee outside to stop, as if a television program had suddenly been turned off. Her eyes were adjusting to the darker room, and she couldn't really see yet. Karl had turned his back to her, and now stood with both hands on the door, glowing presumably with _Shu_. He must be trying to strengthen it, she guessed. She turned back around to peer into the room, and then she saw him.

"Father!" He was slumped at his desk. "Are you all right?"

"Lucia?" He looked up as if in a daze. He looked terrible. "Lucia, is that you?"

She ran up to the desk and knelt in front of it. Extending her arm across the top, she grabbed his hand. It felt oddly clammy. "Yes, it's me Father. I'm here. I'm here with Karl."

At that his eyes widened and he looked toward the door. If he had been surprised to see her, he was positively shocked to see Karl. She noticed Karl hadn't turned around or said anything to the Minister and she thought that very strange. He must be awfully busy with the door. "Aren't you at the Press Conference?"

"We were, but no one's there now." Come on Lucia, you have to talk to him. "We were attacked, I mean, I was attacked. Someone is trying to kill me Father."

He tried to pull back his hand but she held on. "Why Father? Why is someone trying to kill me?" She pinned him with her eyes, willing him to answer.

He pulled himself straighter in his chair, his mouth set in a grim line. He no longer attempted to withdraw his hand but instead looked at her with those eyes that were duplicates of her own, gray-blue, now cold as glacier ice. "A true servant of the public must always be willing to make whatever sacrifices he is called to make, for the greater good of Padokia."

She released his hand herself then, slumping to the floor and leaning her back against the front of the desk. She couldn't look at him. She had to be hallucinating. That couldn't be true, that she would die for a slogan. Something repeated by school children at patriotic events.

For the Greater Good of Padokia. She couldn't remember the first time she had heard it said. It brought back memories of sunny summers spent at campaign rallies, passing out leaflets, or handing out balloons or buttons with other laughing young volunteers. Of standing behind her father, excited, smiling, dressed in her very best, while he spoke before cheering crowds. Or, when she was very little, being lifted, giggling, into the air, and held in Father's arms while the news photographer's cameras flashed and whirred.

Though, if she thought back carefully, there were other times when it had not been made as a bold exhortation. Quiet times when she had been left to amuse herself, silently reading or playing with dolls, while important looking men spoke with her father in serious, hushed tones. It had sounded a lot more solemn then. Almost like an oath or a prayer.

But _never_ had it seemed menacing to her. She had certainly never felt _threatened_ by it.

When had she become a traitor to Padokia? Was Padokia so weak that it couldn't bear her tinkering with its governing bodies' Party affiliations? No, this went deeper than that. Somewhere in her father's mind Love had waged war with Loyalty and had lost. He had seen her actions as a betrayal, and no one ever betrayed Minister VerHoffen. Her disloyalty must have felt very painful, Lucia thought, if it felt anything like what she was feeling toward him now.

With her back to her father she could see now that Karl's arms and shoulders were shuddering with the effort of holding back whoever was trying to get into the room. The door itself was glowing and deforming from all the force being used upon it.

Where was Illumi? Why hadn't he come? Was he outside with General Barhydt's men? Surely something must have stopped him or he would be at her side, wouldn't he? Was she such a poor reader of character that she was doomed to be betrayed and abandoned by everyone she cared about in her soon to be cut short life?

A more horrible thought came to her, what if he had really been stopped, for good? But then she realized with relief, that she was fairly sure the threat she was facing was Zaoldyeck, and although they brutalized them, the Zaoldyecks (unlike some others, she thought bitterly) didn't eat their own.

"You could have talked to me, Father." She didn't bother to turn around to face him as she stood. "You could have asked me not to take those jobs."

"I'm your father, Lucia." His normally steady, strong voice sounded wavering, and frail to her. "No one knows better than I that no one can tell you what to do; you never give up until you get what you want."

She laughed mirthlessly. Well she hadn't gotten her poor ability to read people's hearts from her father. Because it seems he knew her very well.

Then Karl turned toward her, and the door blew wide open.


	29. The Hidden Revealed

29. **The Hidden Revealed**

He hated being in a room with only one door. This was a serious limitation to one's options for escape; and that, in Illumi's opinion, negated any advantage gained by the smaller area that required defending. So he was very leery of her choice of refuge. He supposed he should have expected it though. He had seen how comfortable she had looked, sprawled on the rug by the desk. She had probably spent many hours as a child like that with her father, and she felt safe there. Even the memory of a father had that kind of power, Illumi knew.

His opinion changed when they entered though; there was his target in his sights, a brace of pins could end this now. But no sooner had he shut the door than something pushed against it, hard. If he removed his hands, and his _Nen_ from it, it would be blown in. The force on the other side was increasing, but slowly, steadily. Illumi's anger began to burn. His adversary knew Illumi was there and he was testing him, seeing just how hard he could push, and how long Illumi could hold out--toying with him. Illumi redoubled his efforts, he was one with this door, and it was not going to move. And hopefully, Lucia would find a letter opener on the desk and dispatch her father, although, just like everything else he had wanted since this foolish job began, he knew that was too much to ask.

The end was coming. He could feel it. The near limitless power on the other side continued unabated, but Illumi felt his own energy burning through like an accelerant. Soon nothing would remain. He would have to release the door early, draw, turn, and throw his pins at the Minister, before his opponent could stop him. It wasn't a good plan, but it might work. At least he knew he was a little faster than the opposition. Pulling his left hand from the door, he shoved it under Petersen's jacket, grabbing a handful of pins from his vest beneath, even as he was pivoting on his right foot to face VerHoffen. But it was the wrong VerHoffen. Standing directly in his line of fire, Lucia, eyes wide and questioning. And that was all he saw before he was backhanded across the room, head connecting hard with the dark wood paneling, and the world, winking out.

It was the strangest thing. Karl turned to look at her, with his hand raised, as if to wave goodbye, and then the door almost flew in. Lucia's eyes having adjusted to the dark of the study, the light from the hall outside the room made it difficult to see to whom that large silhouette belonged, but she could hazard a guess, Illumi's father, Silva. Faster than she could see, he sent Karl slamming against the wall. Then Karl's head began to undulate, swell, and stretch, and…suddenly it wasn't Karl. It was Illumi. Of course it was Illumi! Who else but he could have saved her thus far, always interposing himself between herself and danger? He hadn't abandoned her; he had been with her all this time!

She hoped he was all right. She wanted to run to him and check to see, but it looked like his father was already doing that. Afterward, he picked up Illumi's left arm and did something. Lucia couldn't see what. But she could see Silva turn around then and begin to walk toward her.

When Lucia had been a little girl, around nine or ten, her father had insisted she learn the basics of _Nen_. He had stressed that it was a very important power, and that everybody should at least be able to recognize it in themselves and others. He himself did not know how to use it, and had felt that a great shortcoming of his. So she had dutifully studied with a tutor for a couple of years, practicing the basics and finding it very boring, like the martial arts boys played at. But when she had done a little experimenting on her own, she found that if she concentrated very hard, she could use it to do something that was a lot of fun, at least to her, an only child with very few playmates. Even after she no longer studied with the tutor, she had continued to practice this, and now years later, she was still pretty good at it. It was useless of course, no fighting potential at all, though you could sometimes distract or startle someone with it, but with all this power being thrown about, if she was to die from this arcane art, she wanted to at least do the one thing she could do with it. And so she raised her left hand.


	30. The Mountain Comes to Them

30. **The Mountain Comes to Them**

Illumi's head was ringing like a temple gong, and he felt like he was going to lose his lunch at any moment. Where was he? He opened his eyes, but couldn't tell what he was looking at, everything was blurred, no, it was doubled. He shook his head to clear it, a big mistake as the resulting vertigo threatened to send him back into unconsciousness. He held his head still for a moment, he would have used his hands, but they didn't seem to be connected to his brain yet. As his vision began to clear, he saw a somehow familiar, if unexpected sight.

Lucia was standing with her left arm extended, just as he had seen her in that clearing on Kukuru Mountain ten years ago. And in front of her now, his father, ready to kill her, just as Mike had been. Illumi attempted to get up and interpose himself between them as he had done between her and Mike, but his body wouldn't respond correctly to the command, and he just wound up pitched slightly forward from the wall. He could see now that she had gathered her aura in her left hand, and was closing her eyes in concentration. Silva had stopped his advance as if he too was curious as to what she possibly thought she could do against his unmatched _Nen_ prowess.

Wispy green tendrils snaked up from her fingers as a shimmering field emanating from her palm began to move outward in all directions. The border of this rapidly expanding circle took in Lucia, her father, his father, and rushed up to meet Illumi, then passed over him with a prickling sensation and he too was inside it. As if his concussion wasn't disorienting enough, he now found he was no longer in Luther VerHoffen's study, instead, all around him, he saw the forest of Kukuru Mountain.

At first he thought he had actually been transported, so detailed was the rendition. The smell of the air had changed and he could feel the dampness of the grass beneath his hands. It looked like very early evening, with the darkening sky still retaining something of an azure color but with the moon and stars brilliantly shining. He recognized the clearing where he had caught up with her on that day ten years past by the log benches and the general shape and size of it, but now, night blooming jasmine perfumed the air, and the ground was carpeted with small white star-shaped flowers. Out of the sides of the log benches grew myriad multicolored ruffled mushrooms, and in the branches of the surrounding forest trees he saw several iridescently plumed birds. This was no real place. It was a fantasy, a dream.

And in the center of this _En_ dreamscape, Lucia, the wisps of aura from her fingers appearing in this world as a blazing flame, illuminating the entire clearing. She too had been transformed, her deep gold hair now extending down to her ankles and woven through with strands of pearls, her dress a long sleeved, floor length diaphanous sheath of purest luminous white, crossed at the bodice with an "x" of golden cord, the Maiden Sacrifice. In front of her, his father, the Black Knight, light hair in stark contrast to the nacreous black armor he had been given. Her father, seated on one of the benches behind her, in blood red velvet, a gold coronet on his head, and his body slumped forward from the weighty gold chains of office he wore, an ageing, tired King. Illumi managed to tilt his head down to see how she had chosen to portray him.

An ebon sleeveless silk tabard shot through with bronze thread, emblazoned on his chest a golden sun with a corona of silver pins alongside a silver moon pierced with golden ones, worn over shining chain mail so light-reflective it hurt his eyes to look at it, her Knight Champion. Although it made his head pound ominously, Illumi had to laugh. Wasn't this just like Lucia, to have a _Nen _ability so alien to any he had ever heard of or experienced? Not for her the impenetrable defense, the deceptive disguise, the lightning speed, the terrifying aura, the crushing blow, the massive blast, or even the clandestine espial. How many years had she spent developing her skill at creating this illusionary fairyland? How utterly frivolous and useless… and of course clever and beautiful, too.

But she had chosen her champion poorly. Not only was he not qualified to be a knight; he hadn't measured up as an assassin. He had failed utterly to protect her in combat against an opponent nearly twice his age, and now, seated mere meters away from the man who had ordered her death; he was unable to throw the handful of pins it would take to save her.

"Fazha, stahp!" He couldn't even speak correctly now, and Silva looked at him with what appeared to be surprise. Whether due to his slurred speech, because he hadn't expected him to be conscious yet, or outrage that Illumi would dare to interrupt him at his work, Illumi didn't care. He was desperate now, past personal pride or decorum. "Ash him…Maybe…nah hab su die!" It was not completely unheard of, to ask a client about something during a job, though usually it would be more along the lines of clarifying how and where it would be done. Her father was right there; although Illumi hadn't seen him make a move for the last few minutes, and his granting clemency was the only chance Illumi saw that Lucia had left. Silva ignored him in any case, turning back to Lucia.

Illumi now regarded her as well. The flame was getting smaller, and she had tight little stress lines between her eyebrows and at the corners of her mouth, she wasn't going to be able to hold this field much longer. Not that it mattered. Illumi had seen in his father's hand one of his own pins, picked up from the floor no doubt, where they had fallen impotently when he had been brushed aside. And tied around the end of it, just under the ball, her mother's ribbon, taken from his wrist while he had been inert and unconscious. There was a message. She was going to die. Die for the unpardonable sin of believing in him, of trusting in him to protect her… him, the man who had killed her own mother.

Lucia turned to look at him then, her face first clouding over with worry, then smoothing to a look of beatific peacefulness even if her eyes were shining with unshed tears. She smiled at him and looked as if she meant to speak. Illumi began to shudder involuntarily. 'I'm going into convulsions,' the detached thought came. Then he was gripped with a sudden wave of nausea, and he realized what she was going to say. _No_, not _now_! Not when he was like a discarded puppet on the floor, useless, powerless, with the shameful proof of his ineptitude and failure paraded before his eyes.

But fate had not finished mocking him yet and over the ringing in his ears he heard her dulcet voice, "I love you, Illumi." He lowered his forehead to the ground then, choking back bile but unable to stop even bitterer tears.


	31. A Good Way to Die

31. **A Good Way to Die**

A warm glow spread through and over her body moving to her left hand, where it gathered briefly and then burst free, and she knew she was there. Her own Magic Realm. When Lucia had first discovered she could do this, she had used it to travel to many make-believe worlds, mostly from storybooks, but also some from her own imagination as well; pearl-walled kingdoms under the sea, mountain aeries where eagles soared. But after that fateful autumn of her fifteenth year, she had only used it to visit one place, the most entrancingly lovely place that had ever existed, Kukuru Mountain.

Ironically, she had almost used this skill there, on Mike. Before Illumi had rescued her, Lucia had planned to conjure up a world filled with hundreds of rabbits, and hopefully confuse Mike long enough to let her get away. She had been able to create animals in her worlds, but she could never do people. She could, however, take people with her if they were close by, and she could alter their appearance somewhat, as when she had turned Karl into a hairy barbarian at Katrina's last birthday party.

Because she had only projected Kukuru Mountain for years, she had been able to extend both the area covered by, and the duration of, her vision. At first it could only hold herself and someone standing right next to her. It now encompassed an area thirty to thirty-five meters in diameter (although it appeared to stretch to the horizon to those inside it) and she could hold it for up to half an hour. Lucia had remembered every detail she could about the place, and probably had embellished it a little if she was honest with herself. Sometimes she would tell herself she would envision someplace else, but when she began to call up her aura to do it, it seemed that since she was putting in all that effort, she might as well see Kukuru Mountain again. There was no place she longed to see more.

Now that she was here again she felt as though fate itself had guided her. If she was to die, this is how she would choose to do it, a beautiful, heroic, _piaculum_ and not just some squalid political victim. It was indeed Mr. Zaoldyeck _père_ who she was facing. Lucia had been a little in awe of him as a child, and she could see that he was truly an impressive, terrifying figure to be locked with in a situation like this, but she didn't have the heart to hate him, as he was only doing another's bidding. So she dressed him magnificently in opalescent black, befitting an epic bringer of Death. She couldn't even hate her father; he thought he was doing the right thing after all. She cast him as King David and hoped he would at least feel sadness at the killing of his rebellious child.

And Illumi...she unabashedly proclaimed her knight. She didn't have time to play coy; soon she would never see him again. She heard his voice addressing his father, it sounded strangely slurred. Taking her eyes off her approaching doom, Lucia saw his normally fair face, now ashen, making his eyes appear even blacker and contrasting horribly with the bright red of his blood coursing down his face from a gash near his hairline. He was hurt!

But she knew that Illumi would be hurting worse inside from baseless self-recrimination. That she had opposed her father, that he had then ordered her killed, that his own father was about to do it, Illumi would blame himself for all these things, utterly and completely beyond his control, because he had not been able to save her in the end.

Lucia was fast burning through her energy; soon she wouldn't be able to sustain this. Then she would never see Kukuru Mountain again, or the reason it was so dear to her. Turning to face Illumi head on, she winced at his obvious suffering, but then schooled her expression. She wanted him to remember her at her best. Oh Illumi! My only regret is that I'll never get to tell you how wonderful you are. But she wouldn't die without at least telling him that she loved him.

After she did, Lucia watched horrified as he pitched forward to the ground, which broke her concentration...and the elaborate, poignant, romantic vignette vanished into the ether.

The illusion having disappeared, Lucia fell to her knees, her eyes never leaving Illumi. Was he dead? She had to go to him now! Why wasn't she dead yet herself? She tried to determine how long it would take her to reach him. She didn't want to look over at Mr. Zaoldyeck and take her eyes off Illumi. Crawling forward on all fours, she decided not to think about it. Unless she was killed, she would go to Illumi.

She reached him and turned him over, putting his head onto her lap. He wasn't dead, but he was injured and bleeding. Surprisingly, she still wasn't dead either. She tore off the hem of her skirt, using it as an impromptu bandage for his head. Probably not very sanitary, but she hoped it might help staunch the bleeding.

Dimly she registered that there had been a beeping sound, and risking looking up and back, determined the source of it to be Mr. Zaoldyeck. It had stopped now that his attention was focused on something he had in his hand. She wasn't going to pass up this chance.

"Illumi," Lucia bent her head down to whisper into his ear, "thank you for everything you've done for me." She tried to keep her voice barely audible, both to not pain Illumi's ears in his concussed condition and also to not draw the attention of his father. "You're amazing, always remember that." She just barely touched her lips to his, afraid to hurt him, and glad that she had her back to his father, so she wouldn't embarrass him. Lucia then took one of Illumi's hands in hers...and waited for the end.


	32. I Have to Take This Call

32. **I Have to Take This Call**

Almost immediately after Illumi's face touched the ground, it reverted to the rich carpeting of VerHoffen's study. And there was something else, a most welcome sound, the one he had been waiting for for hours, a Zaoldyeck transmitter was beeping. But it was his father's, not his.

Someone grabbed him by the shoulders and was turning him over causing vertiginous disorientation and nausea to overwhelm him again. He closed his eyes, but he knew it was Lucia. He could sense her aura, depleted though it was by her recent expenditure. He must have been cut, because she was wrapping his head with something, every movement feeling like a hammer blow inside his skull.

She was whispering into his ear. He was glad that she was still alive and he could hear her voice, and he appreciated the fact that she was keeping it very low to avoid causing him pain, but he wished she would stop. Not only because she was saying some nonsense about thanking him (for what, allowing her to be killed?) and how great he was (his present virtually incapacitated state all the evidence he needed to put the lie to that), but because he wanted to hear what Silva was saying. Though his father's responses were often not revelatory and very curt: Yes, No, OK and such. Then she kissed him and took his hand and Illumi decided that there were worse ways to find himself as he worked with his aura to speed his recovery and restore his body.

Putting her right hand behind her, Lucia leaned slightly back from Illumi. She remembered how Dewalt had fallen toward her, and she didn't want to follow that example and fall on Illumi, when she was killed. He was looking a little better, she thought, eyes still kept closed and with what she took to be a look of concentration on his largely expressionless features. The perfection of his skin was marred only by that crooked stripe of red down the side of his face. She could feel a tingling sensation through her skirt where his head and shoulders were resting, so he seemed to be healing himself with his _Nen_.

Looking at his face, she decided she had been wrong about how she wanted to die. As lovingly as she had crafted her ersatz Kukuru Mountain's beauty, it could never equal Illumi's. She had to restrain herself from running her fingers through his hair, now spread across her legs and down to the floor. Even if this was her last opportunity to do so, she didn't want to take the chance that it might hurt him in his present state, and she had put her hands in it once before, hadn't she?

She let go of his hand and wiped her face quickly with her left hand, so tears wouldn't fall on him and disturb him. _This_ was the best way to leave her life, with the vision of Illumi's face in her eyes, the weight of his head on her lap, and the music of his breathing in her ears. Except that was being drowned out now because the beeping had started again…. and this time it was coming from Illumi.

It was ringing. _His_ transmitter was ringing; that was a good sign. There was only one person it could be. For the first time in hours Illumi allowed himself to hope. Lucia was still alive, that was another very good sign. She was rooting around in his clothing looking for the source of the sound. Not only was she unlikely to find it but…

Oops, too late. Illumi opened his eyes and raised his arm to stop her, but she had already put her hand on one of the pins stuck through his vest, triggering a nasty shock. She snatched her left hand back, cradling it to her chest with the right one, and regarded him with a very sour expression, her bottom lip stuck out in a reproachful pout.

Illumi ever so slightly smiled. She had moments before been almost blasted apart, and now she was complaining about a little zap? "They're protected with _Shu_," he explained; glad to discover his speech had returned to normal. Now if only this headache and dizziness would leave. He put the arm he had been trying to stop her with across his chest and moved his hand under Petersen's jacket, finding the opening to his vest.

It wasn't as if he had _asked_ her to retrieve it, he justified to himself. She was going to have to defer to him a lot more in the future and not just go off doing things on her own without checking with him first.

He slid his hand under his vest and removed the transmitter from its pocket, bringing it out. His still slightly uncoordinated fingers were having trouble with the small earpiece, and Lucia reached down with her right hand and deftly took it from him and fitted it into his ear, smoothing his hair behind it. As if she would ever stop acting impetuously, he thought… in the future… which she would now have. Illumi smiled again. In _their_ future, he corrected.

She was going to find it. That thing that Mr. Zaoldyeck had been holding, Illumi must have one just like it. It sounded like it was coming from-

Ouch! Illumi had shocked her. And it hurt! His eyes were now open and he was smiling. Did he think it was funny? He was going to have to be a lot more considerate in the future and tell her beforehand when he knew something like that would happen.

He had it out now, an oval object that fit easily in his palm and had a six pointed star in a circle inlaid on the front. At the top there was a small earpiece that Illumi had pulled out, attached by a flexible wire. He seemed to be having trouble manipulating the earpiece. She had forgotten how badly he had been injured in his defense of her. He might not have asked, but he needed her help, which she would gladly give. Lucia smiled; and as a reward, she would get to touch his hair, smooth as satin.

Suddenly she realized she had been thinking of the future. Surely there _would _be a future now; Illumi wouldn't be looking so pleased if there weren't. It must have something to do with these beeping things.


	33. The Importance of Family

33. **The Importance of Family**

Illumi answered, "Yeah. Hmm. I noticed. That's fine. I understand." End.

Having completely missed Mr. Zaoldyeck's responses to that brief, earlier call, Lucia was determined to decipher Illumi's. But who could make anything of that? Illumi's eyes, never readable to Lucia at the best of times, were now misted over with a faraway, dreamlike aspect. She was going to go insane.

"Illumi, wha—"

But she didn't get a chance to finish, as he surprised her by abruptly sitting up and pulling her into a kiss. Slowly percolating through her already overwrought senses was the realization that this was the very first time Illumi had kissed her. On every other occasion when their lips had met it had been at her instigation.

His hands were on her shoulders, exactly where he had placed them when he'd caught her in the hallway, after she had fled from him in terror. And, if anything, his long, elegant fingers were holding her with more strength than he had used at that time, almost painfully so. His mouth was pressed against hers with bruising force. This was not the polite, soft, pleasing return pressure of Friday's kisses or even the skillful, passionate, lover's ministrations of the solarium floor. Hard and possessive, with an edge of desperation to it, it was as if he was _trying_ to take something, when all he really knew was how to give.

A thought like a zephyr teasingly whispered that there were of Illumi, things unknown, or even as yet unimagined. Lucia found this a little bit frightening, even more bewildering… and wholly embarrassing. She blushed and pushed back; they weren't alone. "Illumi, your father..."

Illumi's eyes were again expressionless, but his eyebrows were very slightly raised, and his mouth held just the hint of a smirk. "No, Lucia,_ your _father."

_Her_ father? Her father hadn't said or done anything since before her _Nen_ projection. What could….

She stood up and hurried to the desk. Her father's head was resting on the blotter, eyes closed. He was covered with a fine sheen of sweat, and his forehead felt clammy and cool, actually, more than cool, almost cold. She put her fingers on the side of his neck and felt… nothing.

No. No. He couldn't be.

Had she given him a heart attack when she took him to Kukuru Mountain? She had never taken him before, partially because she was afraid he'd recognize it, but mostly because she was sure he'd be offended at such a silly use of an important power. But that couldn't be it, because Illumi had told her. Could he have…? She ran her hand through the hair on the back of his head, and felt nothing metallic. Yet, somehow, he _must_ have. Somehow, the man she most admired in the world had just been killed by the one she most loved. Lucia placed both hands flat on the desk to keep standing. She was going to start blubbering again, she knew it; she was such a weakling.

It had worked. His plan had worked! Outwardly, he was once again impassive; but inwardly, Illumi exulted.

His partner had successfully rendezvoused with the target, but the timing had been a little off. That was always the tricky thing with poisons. Dosage was so important if you wanted them be dispatched by a certain time; but on a public conveyance, you also had to have time to get away before they keeled over. And for that, she really would have needed more time to study the target's habits, metabolism, activity level, etc. Illumi understood. Mother was a real professional, and he had asked for a rush job. It had been messy, not smooth and elegant as he would have wished, but the plan had worked all the same. Job satisfactorily completed; he had not failed.

But Lucia was not sharing in his success. She was standing next to her father's body, leaning forward supported on trembling arms, her head hanging and her face obscured by her hair. How well Illumi knew the importance of a father to a child, even one as callous as to be able to order its death. And he had been all the family she had. That wasn't going to be the case anymore. His headache nearly gone, and with only a little residual dizziness, Illumi stood up and went to her.

He gently took her arms off the desk and held her close, guiding her the few steps to the rug she had lain on the other evening. Illumi knelt down, pulling her down with him and seating them both comfortably. She was trembling lightly against him, but she wasn't crying. "Lucia, Lu, Lu," he was stroking her hair as she rested her head on his shoulder, and speaking in his most soothing voice, "it's over. It's all over now." At that she let out a whimper. He continued, "Now we can go home. You can come back to Kukuru Mountain." She looked at him then, glistening, tear limned eyes wide with awe. She was beautiful, refulgent from within.

"You…you're taking me back…with you?" her voice full of astonishment.

Oh yes, he was taking her back with him. She had made a choice and he was not going to let her back out of it now! She was leaving this world and moving to the other side of the wall, _his_ side. Now she would have a whole new family: the Zaoldyecks. He very much doubted she had any idea what she had asked for; but it had been her wish, and he would grant it. He wondered if she would enjoy finding out; he had a feeling he was going to enjoy teaching her.

There was a noise from the doorway to the study, and Lucia looked over to see Kikyou Zaoldyeck standing there. She was dressed in a green velvet riding dress, with the skirt pulled up on one side to reveal riding slacks worn beneath and highly polished leather boots. On her head she had a loden velour alpine hat, jauntily tipped forward with two long pheasant plumes trailing behind. Lucia though she looked quite picturesque, in her own inimitable style, although the metal visor over her eye wrappings didn't go with the look at all. Mrs. Zaoldyeck was impatiently tapping her riding crop against the side of her boot, as Mr. Zaoldyeck had not yet lowered the barrier he had apparently placed on the doorway. Lucia stood, with Illumi still supporting her, as the barrier came down and his mother swept into the room.

"What a terrible man that General Barhydt is. He wasn't going to let me in this house, can you imagine! Well I showed him!" This last remark was punctuated with a slap of her crop across her palm, and Lucia suddenly had a vision of the rotund old gentleman General on hands and knees, with Mrs. Zaoldyeck riding on his back making liberal use of her crop. Her fantasies were becoming more and more disturbing.

"Illumi dear, take Lucia out of here. This can't be a very cheery place for her right now and those awful reporters are coming back, not to mention the police, and that stupid army, and the fact that there seems to be some kind of fire burning on the second floor." She paused for breath as she rushed up to Lucia, hugging her and kissing her on the cheek. "It's so wonderful to see you again at last! You're all grown up now, and so pretty, too. We've got so much to catch up on; I can't wait 'till we're all back at home. And just think; now you'll _really_ be my own darling daughter!"

"I understand, Mother," Illumi said as he guided a somewhat shell-shocked Lucia from the room. He agreed. It would be good to be away from here and back home on Kukuru Mountain… with Lucia.

Kikyou turned toward Silva then. He hadn't moved or said anything, just stood observing and repeatedly tossing something in the air and catching it. She snatched it out of the air on the way down and looked at it. It was a large throwing pin modified with a ribbon tied around the end. Kikyou smiled.

"Silva Zaoldyeck, are you going to stand there and tell me, before I called, you were going to kill your future daughter-in-law with one of Illumi's pins tied with her own mother's ribbon?" She leaned up against his broad chest. "Why that's the most splendidly cold-hearted thing I've ever heard of."

Smiling broader, she added, "But...it does seem like that would take _a lot_ of extra time, though. Hmm?"

Whereupon Mr. Zaoldyeck put back up the barrier and grabbed his wife; and the late, unfortunate, Minister VerHoffen's corpse was inanimate witness to yet another Zaoldyeck man's expression of affection toward the woman he loved.


End file.
